


A New Perspective

by SunriseRose1023



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Journalism, Medical, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Military, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5045335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseRose1023/pseuds/SunriseRose1023
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Wesson is a photojournalist sent on his first assignment: a story on a special, secretive Army unit known as the Wayward Sons. Thanks to his past, Sam has some pretty strong (pretty negative) feelings about the military. But given the chance to take a walk in their shoes, Sam may find his opinions change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alethiometry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alethiometry/gifts).



> This is my first EVER entry to the Supernatural SummerGen exchange over on LiveJournal. I had a BLAST doing this exchange and I can't wait until next year! 
> 
> Just as a forewarning, I known next to nothing about the military. I have a HUGE respect for them, but I have never been in the military, nor has anyone in my immediate family--or at least in a time when I could remember it. I researched everything that I wrote, but in the case that I misinterpreted or got anything wrong, I ask for forgiveness and chalk it up to creative liberty.

**ONE**

“Wesson!”

Sam Wesson glanced up from his computer to see his boss motioning for him to follow. Sam glanced around his desk, grabbing a pen and a notepad, then stood up. He exchanged a glance with his co-worker, the only girl on this floor, a lovably geeky redhead who had wormed her way into Sam’s heart when they were in college. Charlie Bradbury gave him a sympathetic look, and Sam nodded to her before he stepped into Zachariah Adler’s office.

Christ, even the guy’s name was scary. 

Zachariah—and Sam would never in a million years call him that to his face; Mr. Adler or usually nothing worked just as well—was sitting on the edge of his desk, phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear.

“Did I ask if you needed anything? … No, I didn’t think so. Either have the story on my desk by four this afternoon or your resignation better be there. We clear? … That’s what I thought.”

Sam swallowed as his boss slammed the phone into its holder, then turned to him, a smile on his face that sent chills down Sam’s spine.

“Mr. Wesson. How is everything?”

Sam nodded, clearing his throat.

“It’s g—good, sir.”  
“How’s your wife? You are married, right?”

Sam nodded again.

“Ye—yes, sir. Going on three years now.”  
“The blonde who’s always at the fundraisers with you?”

Sam blinked.

“Jessica is her name.”

Zachariah smiled as he stood up, walking around to sit behind his desk.

“Yes. Lovely girl. Have a seat, son.”

Sam sat, trying his hardest to pay attention while his mind was screaming _“Please God, don’t fire me. Please.”_

“You’ve been with us for … how long now?”  
“Two and a half years, sir.”  
“Right. We got you right out of college?”  
“Pretty much. Jess and I graduated in May, got married in June, and I started here in July.”

Zachariah smiled, nodding his head.

“And your work has been … just fantastic. Magazines are flying off the shelves. You won that award, didn’t you? The regional thing?”

Sam nodded. He was damn proud of that award. Zachariah nodded.

“I have a special assignment that I’d like to give you.”

Sam did not fall out of his chair, which he considered a huge win for himself.

“Wow. Yes, sir. Of—of course.”

Zachariah smiled.

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

Sam felt the blush cover his cheeks, and he smiled.

“I’m sorry.”  
“No, don’t apologize. It’s refreshing to see such enthusiasm.”

Zachariah leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on his desk.

“There’s a … squadron or unit or something that has quietly been making a name for itself over in … Well, I don’t remember exactly where. But the media’s starting to get wind of it, and I want us to break the story wide open.”  
“Ye—yes sir?”  
“And you … this is your chance, son. Do a good job on this article and a promotion is definitely in your future.”

Sam sat back in the chair. A chance to get out into the field is something he’d only been dreaming about since he decided to become a journalist. Something other than mainly editing other reporter’s articles, a few little columns about inconsequential things even he didn’t care about, and that one story about the tornado in Jess’ hometown that got him that award. 

But a story about the war … 

Sam was not one to really get into politics. He didn’t broadcast his views unless someone asked, but when they did, he definitely let them know where he stood. Jess would get into a debate in a heartbeat, but Sam kept his tongue. He didn’t consider himself a bleeding heart liberal, nor a radical conservative. He found himself somewhere in the middle.

But he definitely had an opinion about this war.

“Mr. Adler, I, uh …”

Zachariah raised an eyebrow, and Sam cleared his throat.

“I feel like I need to let you know that I’m not exactly the biggest fan of—“  
“What, the military? This war?”

Sam nodded, and Zachariah smiled as he leaned forward.

“That’s the beauty of being a journalist, son. You can write an ‘impartial’ article and heavily season it with your own views. Of course, you have to be careful because it is one slippery slope when you start messing with ‘our boys,’ you know.”

Sam nodded, hating the air quotes his boss kept using. He hated people using air quotes in general. 

“Mr. Adler—“  
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. This is not a ‘request,’ Sam. Flight leaves day after tomorrow. My secretary will give you all the information you need. Take the rest of the day and get your affairs in order. Oh, and we want to focus more on the photos on this one, all right, son? Take care.”

Sam sat there blinking for a moment. He watched as Zachariah picked up the phone, punching in a few numbers.

“Jerry? Zach Adler. How you doing?”

Zachariah glanced at Sam, still sitting in the chair, and then slowly turned his own chair around, talking on the phone, while Sam stared at the back of the chair. Sam finally swallowed, gathering his notepad and pen and left the office, walking slowly back to his desk. Charlie watched as he made his way over, sitting down hard in his uncomfortable chair. Charlie watched him, dark eyes wide behind her black glasses, and she finally rolled over beside him.

“Sam? You in there?”

Sam nodded, staring at his keyboard.

“You fired?”

Sam snorted, then shook his head. Charlie moved her head, swinging her fiery hair over her shoulder.

“You’re killing me, Smalls. What happened?”

Sam sighed, setting his elbows on the desk and putting his face in his hands. He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face, then pushing his hands through his hair.

“I’ve got an assignment. Big one.”  
“Okay, and this is not a good thing because …”

Sam sighed again.

“It’s on location.”  
“I’m not seeing the problems here, Sam. Ooh, is it because you have to leave Jess? I can gladly take care of her, if you want me—“  
“That’s my wife, Charlie. She’s off-limits to you.”

Charlie swatted at his arm.

“I know that. I’m just messing with you. Jess is so madly in love with you, she wouldn’t even give me a second look. And believe me, for that piece of ass, I’ve tried.”

Sam groaned, rubbing his eyes with a hand.

“Can we not discuss my wife’s ass right now?”  
Charlie giggled, then bumped him with her shoulder.

“Come on, big guy. What’s the big deal?”  
“It’s a military piece.”

Charlie went still, making a face.

“Oh.”  
“Yeah. Apparently, this … squad or brigade or something has started … something, and Adler wants us to be the first ones to expose them.”  
“In a good way or a bad way?”  
“Haven’t decided yet. But this is apparently my make-it-or-break-it piece, so…”

Sam shook his head.

“And the best part is, the flight leaves day after tomorrow. So I’ve got to go home and … Shit.”

Charlie scooted back in her chair and watched as Sam grabbed his messenger bag and began filling it. He glanced back and Charlie pushed her glasses up on her nose.

“Don’t worry about your columns or whatever. If they don’t reassign them, I’ll take care of it.”  
“Charlie, I don’t know how long this will end up lasting.”  
“Big guy, come on.”

She gave him a smile.

“I’ve got your back. I’ll keep your desk clean and make sure the Starbucks barista remembers you, and I’ll make sure Jess and the dogs are okay.”

Sam hung his head, letting out a breath. He nodded and smiled as Charlie stood up, wrapping her arms around his waist. He leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head, trying not to notice when she held him just a little bit tighter.

“You be safe over there, all right?”  
“You think I’ll get to see some action?”  
“Like they’d let you have a gun. Ha!”

Sam smiled, bending to kiss her cheek.

“I’ll see you, Charlie.”  
“Oh, stop it. Just go.”

Sam smiled, feeling the tug at his heart when he saw her big eyes filling with tears. He nodded, grabbing his bag and sliding it over his head, breathing in deeply as he walked to the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

Sam sighed as he folded up a t-shirt, setting it into his bag.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I chose this.”

Sam shook his head, doing his best to remember every article he’d read about the military, about the journalists who’ve been “over there.” He walked to the dresser and grabbed every pair of socks that he had and dumped them into the bag.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Brutus, a huge Great Dane/Saint Bernard mix, gave a huff of breath and rested back down on his paws, looking up at Sam with sad, mournful eyes. Sam shook his head, leaning over to ruffle the dog’s fur.

“It’s your job to look after Jess while I’m gone, okay? No chewing up her stuff. Remember the stethoscope incident?”

Brutus tilted his head to the side and Sam nodded.

“That’s right. That wasn’t your fault. That was Bailey.”  
“What are you blaming Bailey for now?”

Sam grinned as he turned around, seeing Jess standing at the door, holding their tiny King Charles cavalier spaniel in her arms. Sam walked over, petting the dog behind her ear and kissing his wife. 

“Hi there.”

Jess smiled widely.

“Hi back.”

Sam kissed her one more time, then stepped back. Jess walked over to the bed, pushing Brutus until he gave a grunt and moved over, giving her room to climb onto the bed. On Sam’s side, but to be fair, he was using her side as a catch-all and for packing his bag. Jess leaned back against the pillow, and Bailey crawled down to curl up on Jess’ stomach. 

“I had one hell of a day.”

Sam smiled as he continued to fold clothes.

“What happened?”  
“Four babies. I helped deliver four babies, and one of them became a crash C-section.”  
“Ooh.”

Jess smiled and shook her head.

“Lot grosser than it sounds.”  
“Sounds like it was intense.”  
“It definitely was that. But it’s like none of it seemed to matter when we got the baby out. One cry, and it was like, ‘Oh yeah. There’s a reason for this.’”

Sam smiled, looking at her through the hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“You still good with just delivering them?”

Jess smiled as she reached down to pet Bailey, who immediately rolled onto her back. Jess let out a quiet laugh and rubbed the dog’s belly.

“I am still just fine with having these two as our babies. Are you?”

Sam smiled.

“Still fine with me.”  
“Plus, I’m only a resident, so…”

Sam nodded, zipping the bag up and moving it to the floor, then climbing onto the bed beside Jess. He leaned over and kissed her again, and she lifted a hand to run it over his cheek. Sam sighed as he leaned back, resting his head against hers. She kept gently running her fingers over his cheekbone, murmuring softly.

“What’s going on, baby?”

Sam sighed again, moving to lay beside her. Jess moved around to where she could run her fingers through his hair. He snuggled up right next to her, closing his eyes as he breathed in the faint smell of jasmine that never seems to leave her skin.

“I got an assignment today.”  
“I figured as much, with the bag. Where is it?”

Sam shook his head.

“I don’t know. The boss couldn’t remember exactly where it was and his secretary still hasn’t emailed me an itinerary or anything.”  
“Okay, Mr. Organization, I know that’s probably bugging you.”

Sam smiled, leaning into her touch as Jess continued running her fingers through his hair.

“Although this seems to be a little bit heavier than just that.”

Sam sighed, then nodded.

“It’s a military piece.”  
“Oh.”

Sam nodded again.

“Yeah. _Oh_.”  
“Well, honey, I mean … This could be a good thing, you know?”  
“Jessie.”  
“No, just—just listen.”

Sam rolled over, sitting up and taking one of Jess’ pillows from behind him, hugging it to his middle. She moved to sit on her knees, getting another grunt from Brutus as he was forced to move from his spot. Bailey trotted over and climbed on top of Brutus’ head, laying down and making herself at home, causing Sam to smile. Jess held her hands to her chest, then brought them down, palms up.

“I know you have this thing about the military. And I understand it—not that I support it or feel the same way, but I am behind you 110% percent because we are a team.”

Half of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a little smile as she went on.

“But this could be a good thing, you know? Maybe you’ll learn something, or maybe you’ll teach them something. If anything, it will give you the perspective of living it firsthand.”  
“I did live it, Jess.”  
“No, honey. You lived the aftermath.”

Sam set the pillow aside and stood up, pushing his hands through his hair.

“I don’t want to talk about this.”  
“Sam—“  
“Please, Jess. Not … not now.”

She sighed, lifting a hand to brush her blonde bangs out of her eyes. She nodded.  
“When are you leaving?”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Flight’s day after tomorrow. What time? I don’t know. What airport? I don’t know. Tell me why I’m working for this magazine again?”

Jess smiled widely as she walked on her knees across the bed. Sam walked back to the bed, taking her hands.

“Because you are a brilliant, brilliant photographer, an excellent writer, and they would be fools to send anyone else on this job.”

He smiled as he leaned over, resting his forehead against hers.

“What would I do without you?”

She smiled as she leaned back, looping her arms around his neck.

“Crash and burn.”

Sam leaned forward, kissing her lips once, and then again, deeper as he moved his hands to her hips. He spoke while his lips were still pressed against hers, making her giggle.

“Tell me we’re free tonight.”  
“We are _so_ free tonight.”

Jess squealed as Sam lifted her by her hips, tossing her back onto the bed. He whistled to the dogs, both of them giving him longsuffering looks as he motioned with his head. Bailey hopped off of Brutus’ head, scampering out the door, and Brutus climbed off the bed, stretching his long legs, standing there until Jess scratched his head. He walked over and nudged Sam with his head, making the humans laugh, and Sam scratched behind the dog’s ears before he left the room. 

Once the dogs were gone, Sam closed the door, turning the lock just in case, and turning back to the bed. A wide smile crossed his face when he saw Jess lying there on her back, propped up on her elbows, watching him with a sultry smile. He watched as she reached down, taking hold of the drawstring on her scrub pants, slowly untying it. He reached down and tugged his shirt over his head, then walked over, leaning over his wife and kissing her deeply.

*-*-*-*

Sam smiled from his place against the kitchen counter, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants, feet crossed at the ankle. Jess was wearing the button-up he’d worn to work that morning, which had found itself draped over the back of the chair in the bedroom as soon as he’d gotten home. She was sitting up on the counter across from him, chewing on a piece of the pizza they’d had delivered.

Neither he nor Jess could cook worth a damn, but they both could throw together a mean salad. That was what got them through college, and now, both with steady jobs, they still did the salads most nights of the week, but were able to afford splurges that college students usually could not. 

Jess’ toes were a candy apple red this week, and Sam was distracted by them as she swung her legs from side to side while she ate her pizza. She smiled when she caught him watching, then kicked her foot out towards him. He blinked and smiled, looking up to see her dark eyes full of amusement. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You got a foot thing?”

Sam laughed, tossing his head back. He shook his head and walked over to her, for once at perfect level with her mouth. 

“I got a ‘you’ thing.”

Jess smiled, leaning forward to press her lips to his. She leaned back, picking a piece of pepperoni off her pizza and feeding it to Sam, then licking her fingers.

“I’m going to miss you when you go.”

Sam let out a sigh.

“I’m going to miss you too, babe.”

“You better come back to me with everything you go over there with.”  
“What, you don’t want me coming back with tattoos or something?”

Jess smiled.

“I want you back just the way you are.”

Sam smiled, and after a moment, it slid from his face. Jess set her pizza down, wiping her hands on a napkin before looping her arms around his shoulders.

“What is it?”

Sam sighed, looking into her dark eyes.

“What if … I get messed up?”  
“Sam.”  
“No, I mean …”

He stepped away from her, pacing around the kitchen for a moment.

“What if I go over there and I see something and I’m never the same again?”

He turned back to face her.

“You know it’s a possibility.”

Jess took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Sam, you’re not your dad.”

He stood to his full height, straightening his spine.

“Don’t.”  
“No, listen to me.”

She motioned for him to come back to her, and he did, setting his hands on the counter on either side of her. She covered his right hand with her left, and used her other to play in the hair around his face.

“You are not your father. He was sick, honey. Before he even went over there, he was sick.”  
“I know that. _Now,_ I know that. But mental illness runs in families, Jess. There is a higher chance of me developing—“  
“Stop.”

He did, looking into her eyes as she cupped his face in her hands.

“As long as we have been together you have been telling me this. I know, Sam. I know the stats and I know the risks and I love you anyway. If you are diagnosed with schizophrenia tomorrow, I will still love you.”

Sam closed his eyes, hanging his head, speaking softly.

“We don’t know if he was schizophrenic.”  
“I know. That was just the first thing I could think of.”  
“He did have PTSD, though. And I’m about to go into a war zone and—“  
“If you come back to me with PTSD, you know what I’ll do?”

He blinked, then looked into her eyes again. She smiled softly, lifting a hand to brush the little lock of hair that kept falling into his face.

“I will hold you and stay awake with you when you can't sleep and cry with you and find a way to get you through it. We will overcome it, Sam. I vowed to love you for better or for worse, you know? And I … I meant it.”

He gave her a small smile, leaning forward to gently kiss her again. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed, murmuring softly.

“I love you.”  
“I know.”

He smiled, leaning to look at her, and she smiled as she kissed him.

“I love you, too.”  
“I know.”

Jess let out a quiet laugh, reaching to pick up the pizza she’d abandoned. Sam waited until she took a bite, and he took a bite out of her crust. She let out a laugh, pushing his stomach with her foot.

“Get your own, Moose.”  
“Can’t. Got to have yours.”

Jess laughed, taking a huge bite before handing the rest to him. He smiled, biting it directly from her hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Sam wasn’t a nervous flyer. He never had been. He could slip his headphones on, drift off to sleep, no problems. His family members were jealous of him, and Jess would shoot him dirty looks while she clutched the air sickness bag she’d stolen from him. Any mode of transportation really, Sam was fine.

Until the piece of crap plane that brought him across the world.

He stood at the edge of a building—he didn’t know which one, nor did he give a rat’s ass—leaning his head against it. His eyes were closed, and if his hands would ever stop shaking, he’d put them down by his sides. 

He’d puked three times on the plane, and twice more since they’d landed. He was cursing his boss and the magazine with every breath he took, saying every curse word he knew multiple times, and even inventing some new ones, he was pretty sure. He didn’t even check to see if the camera was intact. He’d clutched it in his lap—when he wasn’t vomiting and wishing he had his mom with him—and if his hands hadn’t left a permanent imprint in the bag, he figured it would be a miracle. He heard a chuckle behind him, before a voice sounded.

“First time on a plane?”

Sam groaned, unable to lift his head. After a few seconds of repeating the mantra of _“You’re not going to vomit”_ in his head over and over again, Sam managed to speak out loud.

“That … was not … a plane.”

The laugh was louder this time, before Sam felt a slap on his back.

“It gets easier with time.”

Sam shook his head, and the laugh sounded again. Sam finally found the strength to lift his head, glancing over to see a short guy with reddish-brown hair, decked out in Army fatigues, with the oddest, almost golden-tinted eyes. He was smiling, and raised his eyebrows when Sam had finished staring at him. Sam let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I—“  
“Your brain’s somewhere over North Carolina and your body’s here in the sandbox. I get it. You’ll catch up in a couple days.”

He held out a hand.

“Corporal Gabriel Novak.”  
“Sam Wesson.”

They shook hands, and Sam smiled.

“Question. Do I call you ‘Corporal,’ or is this like a locker room and I just call you ‘Novak’?”

The soldier let out a laugh.

“You can call me whatever you want. There’s a couple other Corporals, though. And, come to think of it, ‘Novak’ might get confusing, too. I got a couple brothers here.”  
“Brothers?”

Gabriel—Sam decided to call him by his first name, see how that goes over with the rest of the guys—nodded his head.

“Mike’s a general, but he’s hardly ever here. Bigger fish to fry or some shit. Cas is the one you’ll have to watch out for—I’ll point him out when we get back to base—and Luke was here, but he’s in St. Agnes Cemetery back in Nebraska now.”

Sam stopped short, and Gabriel sighed.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry or give me condolences or anything, all right? Luke was a bastard of the highest rank, but he was still my brother.”

Sam nodded, and Gabriel started walking, motioning for Sam to follow him. Sam did, climbing into a … Humvee, was it? Sam really should have spent some time researching military terms before he got on that godforsaken aircraft. 

Gabriel didn’t say much through the drive, which Sam was thankful for. Plus, the surprisingly smooth drive gave Sam—and his stomach—a chance to calm down. When Gabriel finally cut the engine, he gave Sam a smile and hopped out of the vehicle, leaving Sam to do the same. After taking a few steps, Sam stopped shortly behind Gabriel and dropped to one knee, unzipping his backpack and pulling out a camera. A few feet ahead of him, Gabriel glanced back and smiled.

“Good idea. Get started early, Sasquatch.”

Sam lowered the camera, lifting his head to meet Gabriel’s eyes.

“’Sasquatch?’”

Gabriel shrugged his shoulders. 

“You’re … freakishly tall. Everyone here gets a nickname. It’s like a rule. Yours is Sasquatch.”  
“You just met me.”  
“And I christen thee Sasquatch. Good enough?”

Sam rolled his eyes, lifting the camera and snapping a few pictures. Gabriel knelt in front of him, smiling widely and giving the camera two thumbs up. Sam snorted, shaking his head, but snapped the picture anyway. They stood to their feet, and Sam slipped the camera strap around his neck. He usually did that, and out of habit, he kept the camera in his hand. Blind trust in a camera strap is a mistake you only make once, and he’d learned that a long time ago. 

Gabriel jogged ahead of him, turning around and throwing out his hands.

“Welcome to our little corner of the sandbox, Sasquatch.”

Sam smiled, nodding his head.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Gabriel smiled.

“He’s got jokes.”

Sam raised his eyebrows once, smiling. Gabriel shook his head, waiting for Sam to catch up with him. When Sam reached his side, eyes scanning the area before him, Gabriel cleared his throat.

“So do you have any idea what you’re even looking at?”

Sam laughed under his breath.

“I don’t even know where I am.”

Gabriel smiled, nodding his head.

“Yeah, we’re all about secrecy here. Let me give you the rundown so you don’t look like a complete idiot in front of everyone.”  
“I’d appreciate that.”

Gabriel tossed out his arms, rolling his shoulders.

“What you see before you is the camp for our squad. A squad is made up of two fireteams, okay? You still with me?”

Sam raised an eyebrow and Gabriel let out a laugh.

“We gave ourselves names, because why the hell not? Like I said, two fireteams: The Archangels—“

Gabriel pointed a finger at himself.

“And the Knights of Hell.”  
“Whoa, seriously? The Knights of Hell and the Archangels?”  
“And together, we make up the Wayward Sons.”

Sam blinked.

“The Wayward Sons?”  
“Eh, it’s not a perfect name. There’s a chick that works as a liaison, and a couple girl medics that hang around us, too. … But don’t let them hear you call them ‘girls’ or ‘chicks’ or anything like that. They’ll kick your ass harder than any guy ever could.”

Gabriel shook his head and Sam smiled.

“Speaking from experience?”

Gabriel cut his eyes over to Sam, who just laughed. Gabriel shook his head, starting to walk forward, and Sam followed behind him, looking at the men sitting around the tents. Some were playing cards, some writing letters, and a couple of guys were tossing around a football. Gabriel whistled through his teeth, and the men all looked up. Gabriel tossed his thumb back towards Sam.

“Writer boy’s here.”  
“Shit, he’s tall.”

Sam smiled as he shook his head, and the man who’d spoken stepped forward. He was a big, burly man, with ice blue eyes, and he held out a hand. 

“Private First Class Benjamin Lafitte. Benny.”  
“Sam Wesson.”

Benny had a deep Southern accent, and a strong grip. Sam tried not to shake out his hand when the handshake was over, and didn’t have time, anyway. Another man stepped up, his eyes a striking blue, with a salt-and-pepper beard.

“Specialist Cain Adamson.”  
“Sam Wesson.” 

Cain nodded, moving to sit back down at the chair he’d been sitting at when Sam walked up. He leaned over to pick up a notebook and a pen, and Sam heard a voice at his ear.

“He doesn’t say much. Spends most of his time writing letters to his wife.”

Sam nodded, turning to face a dark-skinned man who held out a hand.

“Corporal Victor Henrikson.”  
“Sam Wesson.”  
“Nice to meet you. So they sent you to write an article on us, huh?”

Sam nodded, then lifted the camera.

“It’s more like a photospread with a tiny article.”  
“So smile real pretty, Vic.”

Victor rolled his eyes and Benny cackled behind him. Victor turned around, easily catching the football Benny tossed to him. Sam smiled, lifting the camera to get a shot of Cain bent over his notebook. Sam turned his head at the sound of a sneeze, and he raised an eyebrow, unable to keep the smile off his face. Victor rolled his eyes again, turning to toss the football back to Benny, who was smiling as he caught it. Benny nodded once towards Sam.

“Sleepin’ on the job again, Ash?”  
“I had the night shift, you redneck.”  
“Takes one to know one, brother.”

Ash sighed, shaking his head. Sam blinked. He hadn’t seen a mullet since he was twelve years old and they—mercifully—went out of style. But this guy wore one proudly. Sam glanced around, at the men with military-style haircuts, then back at Ash. He lifted a hand and scratched at his bare chest, and Sam smirked at the sight of the confederate flag inked onto his left bicep. Victor shook his head.

“We got a guest, Ash.”  
“That writer dude?”

Victor smiled.

“Yeah, buddy. He’s in front of you.”

Ash blinked, turning forwards and catching sight of Sam, who raised a hand in greeting. Ash nodded towards him, yawning widely. Gabriel walked up behind Sam, sighing and speaking low.

“If he wasn’t smart as a damn whip, they never would have let him in.”

Sam let out a laugh, then glanced down at Gabriel.

“You—you’re serious?”

Gabriel nodded, and they watched as Ash walked in front of them. Gabriel shook his head.

“He’s a damn genius. Can fix any electronic thing you put in front of him. Whether it’s fresh off the boat from Apple or some ancient something from like 1970. No shit.”

Sam let out a quiet laugh, and Gabriel nodded.

“Plus, he’s the best damn chopper pilot we’ve got.”

Ash turned to the side, pointing something out to Benny and Victor, who had walked up and were talking to him. Sam lifted the camera, snapping a picture just as a breeze blew in, catching Ash’s hair and making Sam and Gabriel laugh. Gabriel shook his head.

“There’s a couple other guys in the teams, but I don’t know where they are right now. Come on. Follow me.”

Sam did, catching sight of a few more men as he followed Gabriel into a tent. Gabriel knocked his fist against a pole and the men who were bent over a table stood up, catching sight of Sam. 

“Special delivery.”

Sam saw an amused, but longsuffering look cross a dark-haired man’s face. And when Sam took a step forward, getting a closer look at the man, he couldn’t help but wonder if having blue eyes was a qualification for this place. The man held out a hand, and Sam braced himself for another death grip.

“Staff Sergeant Castiel Novak.”

Sam was surprised at how deep Castiel’s gravelly voice was. Also, how easy his grip was. Sam shook his hand, then spoke.

“Sam Wesson.”

He glanced over, catching the smile on the other man’s face. Sam held out his hand, and the man set his hand in Sam’s.

“Staff Sergeant Dean Winchester. Nice to have you here, rookie.”

Sam smiled, taking a step back. Dean stepped over, bumping Castiel with his shoulder.

“He’s a tall fucker, isn’t he?”  
“He’s right there, Dean.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean let out a laugh. Castiel shook his head.

“People often say that very same thing about you, you know.”  
“You and me are like the same height.”  
“’You and I,’ Dean.”  
“Stop correcting me. Jesus.”

Sam watched them, smiling as he looked from one to the other. Castiel walked over and bent over the table again, and Dean shook his head, walking to stand in front of the table, leaning back against it, crossing his arms over his chest, then crossing his ankles.

“First time this way?”

Sam let out a laugh.

“First time out of the country.”  
“No shit?”

Sam shook his head.

“Moving to Boston after college was a huge deal.”

Dean let out a laugh, glancing behind him.

“You hear this, Cas? They sent us a baby.”  
“I heard.”

Dean shook his head, facing Sam again.

“How old are you, rookie?”  
“Twenty-six.”

Dean closed his eyes, making a face.

“Christ, it’s worse than I thought.”

Cas let out a longsuffering sigh, shaking his head. Sam glanced down at the camera in his hand and Dean unconsciously licked his lips.

“Let me ask you something else.”

Sam looked to Dean, who nodded at the camera.

“How long you been working for … whatever mag you’re working for?”  
“Almost three years.”  
“First big assignment?”

Sam looked down again.

“That obvious?”  
“Eh, you still got hope in your eyes.”  
“Dean.”

Dean and Sam both turned back to Cas, who shook his head.

“Forgive him. He forgets his helmet sometimes and the jarring has decimated what few brain cells he’s had.”

Dean shot a look back to Castiel, who laughed to himself as he looked back down. Dean turned back around, frowning, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh. Dean took in a breath, looking at Sam again and shaking his head. A smile slowly crossed his face.

“This ought to be fun.”


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

Over the course of the next few days, Sam got some beautiful shots of the sun rising up over the desert. The heat started as soon as the sun came up, and raged like a wildfire until the sun went back down. Sam had gotten some pretty amazing shots of the sunsets, as well. And once the sun had gone down, it wasn’t much cooler, but a bit more bearable than the heat of the day.

Sam didn’t mind the heat too much. He’d lived in the Midwest growing up, where the winters were unforgivably cold, then moved to sunny California when that scholarship to Stanford was just too good to turn down. And that was where he met Jess, so he never once regretted that move. Once he graduated, she uprooted him for her internship-turned-residency at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston, and now, he found himself … Well, he still wasn’t exactly sure where he was. 

“That information is classified, sir. Matter of national security.”

Yeah, because _that_ was what the military was worried about. “National security.” Sam had rolled his eyes at the man who’d given him enough attention to speak his sentences, then went back to … just standing there. Sam was sure he had a job, and he was probably doing it, but he looked a hell of a lot like he was just standing there. 

Classified information, Sam had decided, was the company line that military personnel gave when they didn’t give enough of a shit to give a real explanation. The word “classified” usually shut people up, because—obviously—they weren’t important enough to know matters of such high importance. 

Sam had a hard time shutting up about things like that. 

But he hadn’t let that get to him. Not this time, anyway. He just went ahead and took his pictures, most with the camera for the magazine, but a few with his phone to send to Jess or his mom, if he ever got a chance.

*-*-*-*

“Hey, rookie!”

Sam lowered the camera, an involuntary smile crossing his face when he saw Dean jogging towards him. Requisite Army camo pants, boots, and an olive green t-shirt made up his ensemble, along with a pair of aviator sunglasses. Sam raised the camera again, snapping a couple shots.

“Hang on, you didn’t get my good side.”

Sam let out a laugh, and a wide smile was on Dean’s face as he walked to him.

“How’s your day going?”

Sam shrugged a shoulder.

“Hot.”  
“No shit, kid.”

Sam let out a laugh, and Dean shook his head. He was still smiling when Dean motioned for Sam to follow him. He did, and they began walking across the sand. 

“How are you liking it here?”

Sam snapped a picture of a lizard-looking thing and lowered the camera.

“It’s very different from anywhere I’ve ever been. The guys are great, but my bed sucks.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed.

“I think that’s like a rule here, kid.”

Sam smiled, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Can I ask you some questions?”  
“This for your article thing?”

Sam nodded, and Dean pursed his lips, then nodded.

“Nothing personal.”  
“Tell me if I overstep?”

Dean nodded, and Sam did the same. Sam pulled a small notepad from the pocket of his shirt and a pen from his pants pocket.

“How long have you been here?”  
“In the Army? Since I was eighteen. But I’ve been here … going on eight years. Intermittently, you know.”  
“And you’re …”

Dean smiled.

“Thirty-four.”

Sam nodded. 

“What made you decide to enlist?”

Dean smiled again.

“I graduated from West Point. Cas was my roommate, and we’ve just stuck together ever since. We served our requisite time after graduation, but neither of us figure we’re qualified to do anything else. And the thing is, I actually like being here. This place, the things we do, our ‘routine,’ if you will, it’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t know how to be a civilian. I’m a soldier.”

Sam blinked. 

“So were your parents military? Is it a family thing?”  
“Personal, rookie.”  
“Off the record, then?”

Dean glanced over, and Sam was unable to see his eyes through his sunglasses. Dean sighed.

“My dad was a Marine. Served in Vietnam.”

Sam’s throat went dry, and he glanced down.

“Yeah, so did mine.”

He spoke so quietly Dean almost didn’t hear him. He picked up that they were walking on troublesome territory for Sam, so he tried to deflect.

“Pissed my old man off royally when I went into the Army. Anytime we get together, he still tells me I’m a good-for-nothing grunt, and I reply, ‘At least I’m not a worthless jarhead.’”

Sam’s lips quirked up in a kind of half-smile, and Dean sighed.

“We never really got along—my dad and I—until I started at West Point. My mom died when I was young, and Dad raised me pretty much on the road. We started butting heads when I hit puberty, if not before then, and the best thing he ever could have done was help me get in that place. I hated him for it for pretty much that entire first year, but as time went on, and I matured I guess, I realized what he’d done and how it had helped me.”

Sam nodded slowly, and Dean turned to face him.

“What about you?”

Sam’s eyes widened as he blinked.

“What about me?”

Dean smiled.

“How’d you get to be a writer? Your dad a writer or something?”

Sam swallowed, his throat dry as the sand around them.

“No, he, uh … No. I just always liked writing. Sounds boring as hell, I know, but it’s the truth.”

Sam forced a smile and Dean slowly nodded. After a stretch of silence, and noticing that they were getting closer to the base, Dean cleared his throat.

“So Cas and I were talking about your itinerary for the day.”  
“Oh, yeah?”

Dean shrugged.

“I figured it’s time for you to get a good look at the place.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“I, uh … I’ve been here for three days, Dean. I’ve gotten a pretty good look.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“I mean at the whole place. Not just the base.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and Dean grinned.

“Still not telling you where it is, though.”  
“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?”  
“Hell yeah, I am.”

Sam let out a laugh, and Dean slapped him on the shoulder. 

“Come on. Got a special treat for you.”

*-*-*-*

Sam bit his lip as he stared at the helicopter.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, you know.”  
“Just … shut up.”

Gabriel snorted, shaking his head. He stepped in front of Sam, tightening the vest he was wearing, checking his helmet.

“If there’s nothing to be scared of, why am I in a lifejacket?”  
“In case you go down over water. I’m kidding! Stop trying to run away. Christ, you’re like a toddler.”

Sam blew out his breath, and Gabriel, smacked both hands against his chest.

“That hurt?”  
“No.”  
“Good.”

Gabriel glanced over, then turned back to Sam.

“Okay, Ash is on his way.”  
“Ash? Ash is going to fly me around in that deathtrap?”

Gabriel tilted his head to the side.

“Are you always like this before you fly? I mean, as a reporter, you’ve got to fly a lot, right?”  
“I used to love flying. I was a natural on a plane. Then they put me in a silver bullet and shot me halfway across the world, straight through every patch of turbulence they could, and now, I see that if God had wanted me to fly, he’d have given me wings. I’m perfectly fine right here on the ground.”

Gabriel nodded.

“And how are you going to get back home? Hitchhike? Walk to the ocean and swim?”

Sam was still, blinking his eyes a few times.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”  
“Know that old saying, Sasquatch? Time to get back on the horse.”  
“I don’t do well on horses. I’m as big as they are.”  
“Just shut up and get in the damn chopper.”

Sam shook his head, looking down at Gabriel with pleading eyes. Gabriel sighed, reaching up to tug Sam down, placing his hands on both of Sam’s shoulders.

“Listen to me, all right? Ain’t nobody in this company that can fly a bird better than Ash. He’ll take you up, show you around, then land it like it’s on a bed of feathers, okay? I promise. You’ll be fine. He’ll take care of you.”

Sam slowly nodded, and Gabriel patted his shoulders once before he stood up. 

“Got your camera?”

Sam nodded, and Gabriel did the same. Ash came walking out, passing them by and hopping in the helicopter, settling a helmet on his head, flipping switches and pressing buttons. As soon as the blades began turning, Sam shook his head.

“I’m going to throw up.”  
“You’re not going to throw up!”

Gabriel walked over and punched him in the shoulder.

“Man up. Back on the horse and all that jazz. Time to go.”  
“Gabe, I—“  
“You’ll be fine. Go! You’ll thank us for this.”

Sam swallowed hard, walking over and climbing into the helicopter.

“Hey there, Mr. Reporter Man.”

Sam jumped, and Ash let out a laugh as he turned in his seat to face Sam.

“That little thing hanging off your hat is a microphone. I can hear you, you can hear me, and there’s someone somewhere taping our conversation, I’m sure. I might be radioing back to base, so if I say something you don’t understand, don’t worry. All right?”

Sam nodded, and Ash turned forward.

“Nervous flyer?”  
“Didn’t use to be.”  
“They bring you to us in the Hercules?”  
“Is the Hercules a plane of death?”

Ash laughed at that, then shook his head.

“Well damn, son. You didn’t have a chance. That thing almost turned _me_ off planes, and that’s saying a lot. I almost joined the Air Force to begin with. Don’t tell Winchester that, though. He gets all territorial and ‘Army Strong’ when someone mentions another branch.”

Sam smiled, and Ash glanced back, then smiled himself.

“You know, this whole thing will be for nothing if you don’t open your eyes.”  
“I just don’t want to watch the takeoff and all.”  
“Oh, we’re way past that. We’re in the air, baby.”

Sam blinked, seeing nothing but blue in front of him, through the windshield of the chopper. He turned and looked out the side, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Whoa.”

Ash smiled, nodding his head.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?”  
“Is that snow on those mountains?”

Sam lifted his camera, snapping a few pictures.

“They give you instructions about the pictures?”

Sam nodded.

“Yeah, Dean and Cas have to approve them. All the ones I might want to use have to go through them first.”

Ash nodded.

“It’s just a matter of protection. Don’t want your magazine to fall into the wrong hands and wipe us all out or something, you know?”

Sam lowered the camera.

“What?”

Ash glanced over, easily turning the chopper.

“Why the bosses want to approve your photos and all. They didn’t tell you why?”

Sam shook his head.

“No, they just said whatever pictures I want to use have to go through them first.”

Ash sighed, then nodded.

“How much do you know about the Wayward Sons?”  
“Nothing. I swear. I didn’t even know the name until Gabriel told me.”

Ash nodded.

“No offense, but we’d like to keep it that way. I mean, I know after your little article is published, that’ll be shot to shit, but…”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“We’ve done a lot of shit that a lot of people didn’t like. At all, you know? We’ve had death threats and worse sent to the General multiple times. So he backed us off some. But we’re apparently pretty valuable, because they keep sending us out.”  
“What is it that you all do?”

Ash smiled.

“That’s classified information, son.”

His fake deep voice made Sam smile and roll his eyes.

“That’s a line of bullshit if I’ve ever heard one.”

Ash laughed.

“We do your typical military stuff. Raids, search and rescue, capture once or twice. We just kick major ass at it.”  
“You just saying that because you’re a part of the squad?”

Ash smiled, turning the chopper again.

“Nah. The pride in my voice, that’s because I’m part of the squad. The rest is simple fact, my friend.”

Sam smiled, nodding his head. He looked out the window again, shaking his head at the sights. They were over a village now, and Sam lifted his camera, snapping a few shots. He lowered the camera, narrowing his eyes.

“Hey, Ash? What’s that over there?”  
“Where?”

Sam pointed, and Ash didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Uh, that’s … Did you get a picture of it?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Yeah. Um, that’s … We should turn back.”

Ash didn’t waste any time in doing just that, speaking softly into his microphone while Sam kept his mouth shut. He took a few pictures of the base once they got back, while Ash was landing the chopper. When the blades had finally stopped turning, Sam leaned back in his seat. A wide smile was on his face when the door opened and Gabriel was standing there, one hand on his hip.

“Well, don’t you look all nice and relaxed?”

Sam accepted the hand to help him out of the helicopter, standing still at Gabriel’s urge to let his equilibrium balance out. When he felt perfectly fine, Sam let out a laugh.

“You were right. Ash is a master at this.”  
“Hell yeah, I am.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Never should have said that while he was in earshot. Now he’ll never shut up about it.”

Sam smiled, clapping Gabriel on the shoulder.

“Wesson!”

Sam and Gabriel glanced over, to see Dean standing at the door of his tent, motioning for Sam to come to him. Gabriel narrowed his eyes, and Sam shrugged, taking his helmet off and shaking out his hair, handing the helmet to Gabriel and walking over to the tent. Cas and Dean were bent over the table again, whispering to each other earnestly. They both looked up when Sam cleared his throat. Cas smiled, standing up straight.

“Did you enjoy the aerial views?”  
“Very much so. I got some great shots.”  
“Do you mind if we look over them?”

Sam shook his head. He popped the memory card out of the camera, handing it to Cas as he walked by. Cas sat at a computer, slipping the card into it and typing on the keyboard. Sam’s pictures came up on the screen, and Cas clicked on one, blowing it up to the size of the screen. 

“That’s a good shot of the mountains.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome. You’re very talented with a camera.”

Sam smiled.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Cas continued clicking through the photos, coming to a stop at the ones Sam took of the village. He didn’t click as much as he had been; in fact, he didn’t click the mouse at all. Sam watched as Cas’ face went serious, as an intense look colored his features and he studied nearly every inch of the photo on the screen. He lifted his head, meeting Dean’s eyes and shook his head. Dean nodded once, and Cas went to the next shot, doing the same thing.

Sam chewed on the inside of his lip, glancing over and seeing Dean standing up, arms crossed over his chest, studying whatever was on the table in front of him. He lifted a hand to rub at his mouth, licking his lips before resting them against his fist. Sam’s voice cut through the sudden quiet that had descended over the room.

“Can I ask what you’re looking for?”

Cas glanced up at Sam, looking over to Dean. Dean lifted his eyes, looking at Sam before flicking his glance to Castiel. After a moment, Dean spoke.

“Nothing.”  
“Okay. That’s bullshit.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”  
“Cas is clearly studying my photos for some reason. I’m just curious as to what he’s looking for. I am a reporter, you know.”  
“Yeah, rookie. I know.”

Dean sighed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it.”  
“It’s not like I’m going to run off and tell someone. I was just going to help him look for … whatever it is.”  
“Cas doesn’t need your help.”

Sam pursed his lips as he nodded.  
“He wouldn’t be sitting there right now if it wasn’t for ‘my help,’ so.”  
“Oh, are we about to get in a pissing match about this? Seriously?”

Sam stepped back, holding up both his hands.

“Whoa, man. I’m _seriously_ only trying to help. Forgive me.”

Dean shook his head, blowing out a breath.

“You don’t know anything. You walk up in here like you own the goddamn place and—“  
“Dean.”

Dean lifted his head to meet Cas’ eyes. After a moment, Dean shook his head.

“Keep looking.”  
“Calm down.”  
“Don’t tell me to—“  
“Dean.”

Dean blew out his breath, turning and stalking out of the tent. Cas hung his head, giving a sigh of his own.

“I apologize for his behavior.”  
“Don’t. It’s not your fault. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s him.”  
“I know. And so does he.”

Cas shook his head, turning back to the computer.

“He’s just stressed out right now.”

Sam sighed.

“That doesn’t give him the right to—“  
“I know it doesn’t. He just … He takes things personally. He feels responsible for everything. And if we—shit.”

Sam glanced over, to see Castiel clicking on a section of the photo, enlarging it, then cursing again. He typed on the keyboard a few more times, and the enlarged portion printed out. Cas walked over and picked it up, studying it again, then nodded.

“Sam, I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”  
“I don’t actually have plans, you know.”  
“Well, you do now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

Sam stood back and watched as the teams gathered up, decked out in their gear. Benny kept bouncing on his toes, like he couldn’t wait to get out and do … whatever it was that he did. Cain kept a hand up near his neck, holding tightly to what seemed to be a locket, on a different chain than his dog tags. Victor had his head bowed, eyes closed, until Dean walked up.

Sam noticed then that his legs were slightly bowed, and even with the gear that should have weighed him down, his shoulders were level. His head was high, and an air of authority seemed to shimmer around him. The same authoritative air seemed to surround Castiel as well, and when he walked up to stand beside Dean, Sam watched the men very subtly split into two groups. 

Dean was obviously the head of the Knights of Hell. At least, that’s what Sam decided, due to the red patch on the back of his … backpack? Chalk that up to another military term Sam didn’t know. Victor and Benny stood on either side of Dean, and Cain rounded out their circle, the three of them with identical red patches on their gear. 

The Archangels, designated by their blue patches, were headed by Cas, and included Gabriel, Ash, and a six-foot-tall blonde-haired, blue-eyed … kid. 

Sam blinked, taking another look at the big blue eyes that were taking in his surroundings. The boy couldn’t be twenty years old yet. There was no way. Sam swallowed, unable to look away when the kid looked to him, holding his eyes for a moment. He gave Sam a nod, then turned to face Castiel, as Gabriel laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“That’s Adam.”

Sam glanced back, looking down to see a petite girl with short-cropped reddish-colored hair standing just behind him. She looked down at the clipboard in her hands and wrote something down.

“Adam Milligan. I could see the look on your face when you noticed him.”  
“He’s a kid.”

She nodded, writing something else down.

“Absentee dad. Mom worked the night shift. Kid was left to his own devices, and when his mom was killed a couple years ago, he lied about his age and enlisted.”

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not right.”  
“That’s life, Mr. Wesson.”

Sam sighed, and felt a gentle pat on his back.

“I’m Anna Milton, liaison officer. You’re going to be hanging with me while they head out.”  
“Where are they going?”

Sam glanced over to see the side-eye she gave him, and he let out a laugh.

“Company line, ma’am?”

She gave him a smile, then cleared her throat.

“That’s classified information, sir.”  
“And that’s what I was waiting on.”

Anna let out a laugh, and Sam lifted his camera, capturing the two teams, then watched as the groups dispersed. Sam snapped a shot of Dean and Cas standing close together, Dean’s hand on Cas’ shoulder. Cas smiled, and then walked away. Dean stepped over to Sam and Anna, and Sam let his camera rest back against his chest. Dean gave him a nod.

“Stay with Anna. She’ll take care of you.”  
“I certainly will.”

Sam looked down to see Anna smile up at Dean, saw him smiling back at her, before he stepped forward and took her in his arms. She closed her eyes as she hugged him back, gently kissing his cheek when she stepped away.

“Be safe out there.”

Dean winked at her, then walked over to climb into one of the Humvees that carried the rest of his group. Anna poked her head into one of the vehicles, then the other, then took a step back. Sam walked up beside her, standing in the middle and taking a picture of the two Humvees. Anna whistled, and heads poked out of the windows, and she smiled.

“Kick it in the ass, boys.”  
“Always, Ms. Milton.”

Anna smiled at Benny, then took Sam’s arm and stepped back. He cleared his throat, then bent down to her level.

“’Kick it in the ass’?”

Anna smiled.

“Kind of our unofficial motto.”

Sam nodded, startling as the vehicles started up. He stood beside Anna and watched as the teams drove away, and Sam subtly picked up the camera, looking just over Anna’s shoulder, getting a shot of her face. Worry tainted her expression, and as she held a hand over her heart, Sam felt a funny little tickle in the back of his throat. He shook his head, lowering the camera again, and Anna cleared her throat, pushing a smile on her face.

“Come on. There’s some comm guys you can meet inside, and we’ll visit the medic tent after, if you haven’t been there yet.”

*-*-*-*

While following Anna, Sam came to realize that, even after three days, he still had no clue how this place worked. In those three days, he’d only met the members of the fireteams, and not even all of them. Seeing Adam had jarred him, and he still hadn’t gotten over it.

Anna walked him around the base, entering the communications tent like it was her own home. She took a seat beside a tall, lanky guy who introduced himself as Garth Fitzgerald the fourth, and, when the guy went for a hug instead of a handshake, Sam couldn’t help but immediately like him. He was kind of slow, and very goofy, but very likeable. A guy half Garth’s size worked right beside him, a quiet kid who’d shook Sam’s hand and introduced himself as Kevin Tran, before going right back to his computer. 

“Kevin’s one of our best translators.”  
“’One of’?

Anna smiled.

“All right, _the_ best translator.”

Kevin nodded, murmuring into a microphone while he read whatever was in front of him on the computer screen. Garth dragged him away from the computer long enough to throw an arm around him and smile at Sam, who snapped a couple of pictures before Kevin begged to go back to his work. 

Anna took Sam to the medic tent after that, where he stopped in his tracks as he saw a woman with hair to rival his best friend’s. The redhead turned back, a sultry smile crossing her face and one eyebrow raising when she saw Sam.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Sam raised his left hand in greeting, and the smile stayed on the woman’s face when she took in the sight of his ring.

“Damn shame.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile as she walked over to him.

“Doctor Abigail Donovan. Most people just call me ‘Abby.’ Unless we’re in a formal setting, then ‘Doc’ will do.”

Sam shook her hand.

“Sam Wesson.”

Anna smiled as Abby glanced over to her. 

“Gabe calls him ‘Sasquatch,’ Dean calls him ‘Rookie,’ and the rest of them seemed to have latched onto ‘Writer Boy.’”

Sam rolled his eyes, and Abby smiled. 

“I think just ‘Sam’ will work for me. Tall, not too dark, but very handsome Sam.”

Sam couldn’t help the blush on his cheeks, and Abby just laughed. 

“What’s so funny?”

At the unfamiliar voice, Sam glanced around Abby, to see a woman at least a foot shorter than him, shorter than Abby, even, walking into the room with a tray in her hands. Her dark hair hung in loose curls around her face, which for some reason, reminded Sam a little of a Kewpie doll. She had a round face, with rosy cheeks. She raised an eyebrow at Sam, a demure smile curving her lips, dimples carving deep notches in her cheeks. 

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

Anna rolled her eyes as the woman in the navy blue scrubs slowly walked over to Sam. She had her arms crossed over her chest, purposefully looking him up and down. Sam swallowed.

“Sa—Sam. Sam Wesson. I’m writing that—“  
“That article on the boys. Well, aren’t they lucky?”

Anna gave an exasperated sigh behind him, then stepped around, standing off to the side, but between Sam and the woman.

“Sam, this is Meg Masters. She’s Abby’s nurse.”  
“Along with so much more, Milton. You always seem to forget that.”

Anna rolled her eyes again, leaning closer to Sam.

“I don’t know why she’s acting like this. It’s not like everyone doesn’t know that she’s … otherwise occupied.”

Meg raised an eyebrow, keeping that same small, demure smile on her face. 

“Why, Anna. Spreading gossip?”  
“It ain’t gossip if it’s true, honey.”

Sam looked over to Abby, who giggled as she sprawled in a chair.

“Meggie’s got a thing going with Sergeant Blue Eyes.”

Meg rolled her eyes, walking over to lean back against a countertop, then lifting herself up to sit on it. 

“What can I say? Clarence is hot.”  
“Clarence?”

The girls glanced over to Sam, and Meg gave him a grin.

“Ever seen _It’s A Wonderful Life_?”  
“My mom makes me sit through it every Christmas.”

Meg smiled, and Sam tilted his head.

“Clarence is … the angel?”

Meg nodded, and Anna smiled.

“Meg’s convinced Castiel was actually an angel in a past life. Plus his name is the name of an angel, so…”

Sam smiled, nodding his head.

“Clarence.”  
“I’m the only one who gets to call him that, though.”

Sam held up his hands, smile still on his face.  
“That’s sweet.”

Meg made an annoyed noise.

“Don’t say that. I’m not sweet.”  
“Not our Meg.”  
“No, she’s practically demonic. All the lives she saves.”

Meg glared at Abby.

“Takes one to know one.”

Abby laughed, shaking her head.

“Please. I’m practically a Knight of Hell.”

Anna rolled her eyes again, and Sam smiled as he took in the female aspect of the Wayward Sons. Meg motioned to a chair off to the side and Sam slid it over, sitting down once Anna took a seat in one of the other chairs, lifting the phone to her ear to make a call.

“So, Sam.”

Sam looked back to Abby, who laced her fingers together and rested her chin on her hands.

“Tell us about you.”

Sam looked from Abby to Meg, a smile on his face.

“Not much to tell. I grew up in South Dakota, moved to California for college, met my wife there, and we moved to Boston once we graduated.”

Meg nodded, dimples shining as she spoke.

“Thank you for that fascinating geography lesson. Now tell us about you.”

Sam smiled, cheeks growing warm.

“What do you want to know?”  
“Everything.”

Abby and Meg spoke together, and Sam let out a laugh.

“Okay. I’m six foot four, but that’s obvious. Growing up, my dad always made me get high-and-tights, so that’s why my hair looks the way it does. I’ve got my mom’s eyes, so I’ve been told. I’m allergic to strawberries and bee stings. My favorite color is blue, my favorite food is any kind of food period, and my wife and I have two dogs. Brutus is this huge Great Dane/Saint Bernard and Bailey is a tiny little spaniel.”

Abby let out a laugh.

“Well, all right, then.”

Meg leaned over, nodding towards Sam.

“Writer. Stickler for details.”

Abby nodded back, and Sam smiled.

“Your turn.”

Meg raised an eyebrow.

“What, you showed us yours, now we got to show you ours?”

Sam lifted a shoulder, still smiling. Abby shook her head, but she sat up.

“I’ll go. I grew up in Illinois, in this town that was almost stuck in the ‘50s. I actually know Cain from a long time ago. You’ve met him, right?”

Sam nodded.

“He doesn’t say much.”  
“Never has. He’s always been … burdened, we’ll say, ever since the death of his brother many, many years ago.”

Sam leaned forward, setting his forearms on his knees.

“What happened?”  
“Ooh, Writer Boy’s intrigued.”

Sam winked at Meg, who crossed her legs and grinned. Abby sighed, leaning back in her chair.

“I was young, so I don’t remember specifics. But everyone blamed Cain. Said it was his fault that Abel died, and I don’t think their parents ever forgave him. He left town shortly after the funeral and never came back.”

Sam shook his head.

“Wait a second. Cain’s brother was named Abel?”  
“I know, I know. It’s kind of spooky how everything turned out. The definition of ‘irony.’ But it’s the truth. The only person who really knows how Abel died is Cain, and—as you can tell—he doesn’t talk about it. Or anything else, really.”

Sam sat back in his chair, blinking his eyes.

“Wow.”  
“We talked some, when I first got here. He met a woman on his travels, in … Europe, somewhere. Collette. They got married, and she’s the only person in the world he loves. That’s who he’s always writing to.”  
“And the locket around his neck?”  
“Got her picture in it.”

Meg laughed, and Sam looked over to her.

“Details, I told you. Writer Boy’s got his priorities in line.”

Sam smiled, and Abby let out a laugh, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I tend to go off on tangents sometimes. That’s something you should know about me.”

Sam nodded, and she went on.

“I graduated a year early from high school. Discovered my penchant for trauma while I was in med school. Once I got through my internship and residency, one of the doctors I’d worked for told me about this. And I’ve been out here ever since. Seems like forever, but there’s honestly no place I’d rather be.”

Sam smiled as he nodded, and Meg leaned over, whispering to him.

“She forgot to tell you about her fling with Winchester.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised and Abby rolled her eyes.

“It was a one-time thing years ago. Way before he got married.”  
“Whoa, Dean’s married?”

Abby and Meg shared a glance, before Abby looked back to him.

“Not anymore. Have you talked to him?”  
“Like, really talked to him. The way you’re talking to us?”

Sam shook his head at the girls.

“No, the one time I tried, he said no personal stuff.”  
“No chick flick moments. That’s practically his motto.”

Anna cleared her throat as she walked back into the little circle Sam, Abby, and Meg had formed. She leaned against the counter beside Meg, giving Sam a small smile.

“Have you noticed that you’re the only reporter here?”

Sam blinked.

“Not until now.”

Anna nodded.

“And how you’re the first one to ever write a piece on the Wayward Sons, even after all these years?”

Sam looked down at his feet, then met Anna’s dark eyes.

“That’s Dean. He’s very protective of his family, and he’s very protective of this unit.”  
“In all actuality, the two are the same in his eyes.”

Sam looked from Meg back to Anna, who sighed.

“For years now, Dean was adamant that no journalists step foot in the camp. Like I said, he’s very protective, but he’s also very goal-oriented. In order to achieve those goals, the teams had to stay off the radar. And they have, for a good long while.”

Anna bit her lip before she spoke again.

“But when Michael became the general, he wanted more publicity. Shine a light on all the good the military does, specifically, all the good the Wayward Sons do.”

“Michael Novak? Gabe’s brother?”  
“And Castiel’s.”

Sam slowly nodded, and Anna went on.

“To appease Michael, Dean agreed to an interview, but he had many stipulations. Michael was smart enough to realize that giving in to Dean’s demands would work out for everyone in the end.”  
“And those demands were…?”  
“Only one reporter is allowed on base at a time. Your magazine won the first round. The reporter is allowed to stay for an indeterminate amount of time, and during that time, no other member of the media is allowed near the base. Any photos that might be published must be approved by Dean _and_ Castiel, and the final article should have their approval before it gets published. If the reporter does not agree to this, he shouldn’t even bother coming.”

Sam sighed, pushing his hands through his hair.

“I’m sure my boss agreed to all of that, but he didn’t tell me any of it. He didn’t tell me anything.”

Anna nodded, and Meg cleared her throat.

“Well, now you know.”


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

Sam made his way back to his tent with Anna beside him. Neither of them spoke, and Anna simply patted him on the shoulder in lieu of a goodbye. He took the camera from around his neck and set it on the small table beside his laptop, groaning as he took his shoes off and lay back on the bed. He laced his fingers together, laying them over his abdomen, and stared at the ceiling.

He couldn’t help but think of his father. Was it like this for him? Sam knew it had to be different, but some of the things that went on had to be the same. After his talk with the girls, one thing kept swirling through Sam’s mind.

Maybe if someone like Dean had been protective like that over his dad …

Sam glanced to the side as he heard his phone chime. He picked it up, a smile crossing his face as he slid his finger across the screen to answer the FaceTime call. He laughed when Brutus’ huge face was the first thing he saw.

_“Hey, Dad. I miss you so much I’ve chewed up a pair of your Chucks. But I didn’t get in too much trouble, because Mom hated those shoes anyway.”_

Sam laughed again at the sound of Jess’ fake deep voice.

“It’s okay, Brute. We’ll get another pair and we won’t even tell your Mom.”

Jess’ wide smile came into his view and Sam felt an ache in his heart.

“God, I miss you.”  
 _“I miss you, too. And I can already imagine the headaches you’re going to give me when we have a kid.”_

Sam laughed, holding the phone tighter in his hand.

“How did you know I needed to hear your voice?”  
 _“Rough day, baby?”_

Sam sighed, watching as Jess situated herself on the couch, snorting when he heard her sharp exhale as Brutus made himself at home in her lap. Jess shook her head.

_“Thinks he’s a lap dog.”_

Sam smiled, and Jess tilted her head to the side.

_“What’s on that big brain of yours, my love?”_

Sam sighed again, pushing a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know. Well, I mean, I do, but …”  
 _“Can’t find the words?”_  
“Exactly.”  
 _“And you’re a reporter?”_

Sam laughed, giving Jess a fake glare.

“Shut up.”

She laughed, stretching her legs out and yawning.

“What time is it over there?”  
 _“Just after five in the A.M. What time is it for you?”_

Sam touched his phone, blinking at the time.

“Nine. And that’s at night. What are you doing home?”

Jess yawned again.

_“I pulled a double yesterday. Was on call last night and just got home from a delivery.”_  
“Everything go okay?”  
 _“Beautiful baby girl, just wanted to make her debut early this morning.”_

Sam smiled.

“You’ve got to be exhausted.”  
 _“Well, at seven, I’m off call, off work, and planning on spending the whole day hogging the bed. If Brutus will let me. He’s taken up residence on your side.”_  
“He doesn’t want you to be alone. He and I talked about this before I left.”

Jess laughed, reaching down to stroke the dog’s head.

_“Well, he’s been great. Nowhere near as great as you, but a close second.”_

Sam heard Brutus whine, then laughed at Jess’ loud whisper.

_“I have to say that to him. You know the truth, big guy.”_  
“I can feel the love.”

Jess smiled, laying back against the arm of the couch and looking to Sam.

_“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s going on.”_

Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I can’t stop thinking about my dad.”  
 _“Oh, honey.”_

Sam closed his eyes, laying back on the cot again.

“I met the liaison officer and the medics tonight, and they’re the only females in the whole bunch. I felt more comfortable around them than any of the guys.”  
 _“You’ve always been like that, baby.”_  
“Why is that, Jess? What, because of everything I went through with my dad, I relate to females better?”  
 _“Sam, I’m an OB-GYN. Not a therapist.”_

He blew out a breath.

“I’m not trying to be snappy or anything.”  
 _“Oh, baby, I know. You’re just stressing about the article and memories of your dad always put you in a funk.”_

Sam nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“Anyway, we were all talking, and they … they gave me some insight to Dean.”  
 _“Dean’s the … leader of the group?”_  
“One of them.”

Jess nodded, not saying anything, waiting for Sam to go on. He sighed.

“I’m the first person to ever come out here. Dean hasn’t let any reporters around the team for years. He’s been protecting them all this time, and here I come to …”

Sam sighed again, then shook his head.

“And all I could think about was … What if Dad would have had someone like that?”  
 _“Sam—“_  
“If someone had cared about him the way Dean cares about these guys, maybe he wouldn’t have …”

Sam scrubbed his hand over his face, keeping his eyes closed at the sudden rush of tears.

_“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard, but you can’t think like that. It’ll tear you up inside. It already is; I can see it.”_

Sam sniffled, shaking his head.

_“I love you.”_

Sam smiled.

“I love you, too. And I miss you.”  
 _“Then come home already.”_  
“Baby, I’ve been gone for, what? Four days?”  
 _“Seems like so much longer.”_

Sam smiled.

“I know. I don’t know how long I’ll be, though.”

Jess sighed.

_“I know. I’m trying to suck it up and be a big girl. But I do sleep in one of your shirts every night.”_

Sam smiled again.

“I stole one of your shirts and brought it with me. I don’t sleep in it, but …”

Jess giggled.

_“You couldn’t get it over those big muscles.”_

Sam let out a laugh.

“Now I know you’re exhausted. You get all snuggly and …”

Sam wiggled his eyebrows and Jess let out a loud peal of laughter.

_“You want to turn this into sexy FaceTime?”_  
“Would you be able to stay awake through it?”

Jess pushed her bottom lip out in a pout and shook her head, and Sam laughed.

“Go to bed, baby. I love you.”  
 _“I love you, too. More! I love you more.”_

Sam smiled.

“Night, Jessie.”  
 _“Good night.”_

She pursed her lips and blew him a kiss, and Sam grinned as he ended the call. He fell back onto the cot again, wincing as he tried to move around and ease the ache in his back. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to ease his mind.

*-*-*-*

Sam jolted awake at the soft sounds breaking through the silence. He yawned and stretched, walking to the front of his tent and looking out. The Humvees were back, and Sam watched as the men spoke low, groaning softly as they gathered their gear and carried it to … wherever they put it. Benny was limping slightly, and Gabriel was keeping pace beside him. Ash jogged over to lift Victor’s arm and put it across his own shoulders, slowly helping him walk into the tent. Sam never saw Cain; he must have gone into the tent before Sam came out. He didn’t see the kid, Adam, either.

Sam looked over to where Dean and Castiel stood outside the tent they shared, standing close together and speaking low. He couldn’t make out who was who, but after a minute, he saw what he was pretty sure was Dean squeeze Cas’ shoulder before Cas turned and walked away.

To the medic tent, where a dark-haired nurse was waiting for him.

Sam smiled at that, then looked back, just in time to see Anna walk up and loop her arms around Dean’s neck. He held her for a moment, then stepped back, letting Anna walk into the tent ahead of him. 

Sam stood in the darkness for a moment, taking in the things he’d just seen, then turned and walked back to his tent, grabbing a notebook—one of the many he always carried with him—jotting down a few things before climbing back into the bed and letting sleep overtake him again.


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

For two weeks, Sam spoke with each member of the teams, getting “official” interviews with each of them. He also spent a lot of time with Garth and Kevin. Kevin still didn’t talk much. He didn’t do much but eat and translate. Gabe, for some reason, had nicknamed him ‘Prophet.’ The rest of the guys just went along with it.

Abby and Meg got so used to Sam hanging around that they gave him jobs to do. He didn’t mind folding up sheets and towels and counting medicine bottles, and his organization skills really impressed both of the medical professionals. 

He kept his distance from Dean, who repaid him in the same manner. Castiel was friendly towards Sam, which was how he found himself in his tent with the dark-haired man reading over the rough draft of his article. Sam was quiet while Cas read, and when he got to the end, the man had a small smile on his face.

“This is good, Sam.”  
“Thank you.”

Cas nodded, putting the pages in order and laying them on the makeshift desk/table Sam had his things piled up on. Cas set his hand on the pages, then spoke softly.

“Can I ask you something?”

Sam smiled to himself, since Cas hadn’t lifted his head.

“Sure.”  
“Is this really what you wanted to write?”

Sam blinked, and Castiel slowly looked over to him.

“I mean really and truly, could you stand by this article and say it’s the best thing you’ve ever written?”

Sam didn’t answer, and Cas looked back at the pages.

“Could you say it’s the most truthful thing you’ve ever written?”  
“Journalists aren’t known for their truth-telling, Cas.”

Castiel smiled, nodding his head.

“I know. But, Sam … this article did everything but jump up and start singing _God Bless the U.S.A._ It’s good, but it’s so star-spangled pro-military, pro-America, pro-war that I’m kind of … Honestly, I’m a little bit ashamed.”

Sam sat back.

“You’re ashamed?”  
“Not of your writing. You have a real talent with your words. It’s the message you’re implying where I have a problem. What I got from this article is that the men of the teams wake up smiling every morning, excited to run out and greet the day. Like this is the job of a lifetime and we’re all blessed to get to live it.”

Cas shook his head.

“That’s not what we are, Sam.”

He rubbed the palms of his hands on his pants and stood to his feet. He set his hands on his hips as he paced.

“We’re not here because we love the job. We’re here out of a sense of duty. We love our country, and we do what we can to keep it safe. All I’ve ever known is the military. I’m a soldier, Sam. I can’t even introduce myself to someone without verifying that point first. Staff Sergeant Castiel Novak.”

He shook his head, letting out a sigh. 

“You think I’d choose this life? Spending every day wondering if today’s the day I meet the wrong end of a rifle? Or run over a roadside bomb? Do you know what it’s like to look at every single person that walks past you on the street and wonder if they’ve got a bomb strapped to them underneath their clothes? If this little girl that you help will bring you back to her mother, who will blow you all away?”

Cas crossed his arms over his chest, looking down.

“I love the guys in this unit. I’d lay my life down for them in a second. One of my brothers actually did lay his life down. The reasoning is still fuzzy behind that one, but the point of the matter is, if I had a choice, I’d much rather be doing a job where I didn’t worry about whether today is my last day on Earth or not.”

Sam swallowed, speaking softly.

“I don’t understand how you don’t have a choice.”

Cas looked up, and Sam shook his head.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m not trying to undermine anything you’ve said. I just … You don’t have to be a soldier. It’s not a requirement.”

Sam blew out his breath.

“This is not coming out at all like I wanted it to.”

Cas smiled.

“I understand what you’re saying. And it’s okay. You haven’t offended me or anything.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he glanced down, smiling softly when he looked back at Sam.

“For my family, it was a requirement. My father was a chaplain in the Army. My grandfather served in World War II. My great-grandfather served in World War I. I was supposed to go to West Point, then serve in whatever branch I chose. That choice was mine, but after meeting Dean, I really don’t think it was my choice.”

A fond smile crossed his face.

“I knew I’d go wherever he went. You know how sometimes you just meet someone and it’s … like they’re your soulmate? I know how ‘gay’ it sounds or whatever, but that shit doesn’t matter to me. Dean and I have … I like to tease him and say we have a ‘profound bond.’ And no one says your soulmate has to be in a romantic way.”

Sam smiled, and Cas glanced over at him, sharing a grin.

“He’s my best friend. Has been ever since I care to remember. I was the best man at his wedding, and hopefully, one day he can be mine. Even with the shit-ton of brothers that I have.”

Sam let out a laugh, and Cas shook his head again, that same fond smile on his face.

“I made my choice. And I chose to follow Dean. I guess I’ll stick with him ‘til we’re old and senile.”

Sam nodded, looking over to his desk and letting out a sigh.

“It is a pile of crap. The article, I mean.”

Cas glanced at his feet and smiled.

“Not everything.”  
“Ninety-five percent.”  
“At least eighty.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“Guess I’ll be sticking around a little while longer.”

Cas nodded.

“Guess so.”

*-*-*-*

Even as hot as it was, Sam still enjoyed being outside. He’d always liked the outdoors, ever since he could remember. He was into sports as a child, until junior high, when his legs and arms grew at alarming rates and he felt like a baby deer trying to walk. He got the hang of it again when his body caught up to his limbs, even playing as a starter on the basketball team his senior year.

There was a hoop set up on a makeshift court, and Sam played a few nights with some of the guys. He felt almost brotherly towards Adam, and the two of them spent a lot of time together just talking. Gabriel, Benny, Victor, and Ash welcomed Sam like an old friend, and acted that way around him. He was comfortable with them. He had a surprisingly in-depth conversation with Cain one day, and walked away with a newfound respect for the quiet, reserved man. 

But he didn’t approach Dean.

A month after he arrived on the base, Sam was sitting a chair outside the medic tent when Dean walked up to him.

“Wesson. You got a minute?”

Sam blinked behind his shades, but nodded. He stood up, groaning as his muscles protested and his spine popped. He put his hands in his pockets and walked at a slow pace beside Dean. They didn’t speak until they were a little ways from the camp, no longer surrounded by anyone. Dean sighed.

“I owe you an apology.”

Sam blinked again, but kept his mouth shut. Dean shook his head.

“I shouldn’t have said the things I did to you. I get you were just trying to help, but we’d been chasing that bastard for what seems like years, and you—“

He stopped, shaking his head again.

“I’m trying to blame you for something you had nothing to do with. And I can’t tell you anything else besides that because it’s fucking classified. I’m so goddamn sick of dealing with classified bullshit.”

Sam bit his lip to keep the smile away from his mouth. Dean sighed again.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You actually helped, in a way. Didn’t do us much good because we—“

Dean glanced over, and Sam guessed they would have locked eyes, had they both not been wearing sunglasses. Dean cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Because we did not complete our mission at that time.”

Sam slowly nodded, and Dean did the same. 

“And on top of that, you kept your distance afterwards. I was pissed off, which you probably knew, and maybe you were pissed off, too. But I appreciate you not trying to get in my face and tell me how wrong I was and how right you were or trying to immediately fix it.”

Dean shook his head again.

“People don’t get that. Everyone’s always trying to clear the air right away. Sometimes, I just need to be mad for a while, you know?”

Sam nodded, a half-smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I know.”  
“Lisa never understood that.”

Sam’s eyebrows quirked up, and Dean sighed, a smile on his face.

“Sneaky little bastard.”  
“I didn’t even say anything!”

Dean laughed, and Sam just shook his head, unable to keep the smile off his face. Dean shook his head, but smiled, as well.

“Lisa’s my ex-wife. I’m sure by now someone’s told you about her.”

Sam shook his head.

“Abby let it slip that the two of you had a thing once, but it was before you were married. All I knew was that you, at one point in your life, had a wife.”

Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

“Met her about six, seven years ago on a break. She teaches yoga, and that was the bendiest weekend of my life.”

Sam closed his eyes as he laughed, and the smile on Dean’s face lit up the desert.

“She wrote to me when I was deployed for a year, and when I got back home, I asked her to marry me.”

Dean’s smiled softened, and he reached into the front pocket of his shirt, pulling out a small photo.

“Four years ago, the best thing that ever happened to me was born. That’s my son, Ben.”

Sam shook his head.

“He’s gorgeous.”  
“Looks just like Lisa. Dark hair like she has, but he’s got my eyes and taste for classic rock.”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the photo in his hand, and he gave it back to Dean, who took it and sighed.

“It’s a miracle I got to be there when he was born. I was so scared I’d miss it. But everything worked out, and he waited for me. I was the first one to hold him.”

Dean slowly moved his finger across the picture, then sighed.

“I got to stay home the first two years. I got deployed again shortly after his third birthday, and Lisa just … She couldn’t deal with me being gone so long. It’s not like I really made it easy on her, either. It really was the best thing for all of us for her and me to split up.”

He glanced down, running his thumb over his ring finger.

“Kinda sucks, to be honest. But she’s fine. Ben’s doing great. We talk as much as we can, all three of us. She and I promised we’d do whatever it took to make it easy for him, and so far, so good.”

He sighed again, lifting his head to look out over the sand.

“I missed his birthday this year. I didn’t think it would hurt as much as it did, but … I was wrong. I don’t …”

Dean shook his head.

“I don’t know how to be anything other than a soldier. But I’m his dad, and that comes before anything else. I don’t know how to balance it out.”  
“Isn’t that the point of being a parent?”

Dean glanced to Sam, who shrugged.

“Learning to balance?”

Dean nodded.

“I guess so. You married?”

Sam smiled.

“Almost three years.”  
“Kids?”  
“Not yet. One day, but we’re sticking with dogs for now.”

Dean nodded again.

“Best thing you’ll ever do. Hardest thing you’ll ever do, but trust me, it’s definitely worth it.”

Sam smiled as he looked down, sticking his hands back in his pockets. Dean sighed, then started walking, smiling to himself when Sam stepped in sync beside him.

“None of that goes in your article or I’ll break every bone in your body.”  
“It hurts that you think you have to clarify that.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head.

“Glad to see we’re on the same page, rookie.”  
“No problem, _Dad_.”

Dean groaned and Sam laughed, keeping the smile on his face as they made it back to base.

*-*-*-*

The guys had gone on two more expeditions—at least, that’s what Sam thought of them as—in the month and a half that Sam had been there. Anna would come and collect him, walking around with him while he snapped pictures, talking to him while they walked. They spent a good amount of time in the comm tent, joking around with Garth and even getting Kevin out of his shell a little bit more. When they got bored there, they’d go to the medic tent, where Abby would keep Sam rolling with tales of her wilder years, and when she took a break Meg was more than happy to step in.

Benny came back from the second mission with a huge gash on his arm. Abby stitched him up while Sam snapped pictures from a safe distance, away from the blood and grossness. The third mission went a little haywire, and Gabe, Adam, Victor, and Dean all ended up with smoke inhalation and had to spend the night in the medic tent getting oxygen. Cas sat out in what Sam thought of as the common area, accepting coffee from Meg and alternating between checking on his brother and his best friend. Sam stayed with him, and felt horrible about taking photos, but Dean urged him to do it. 

And when everyone saw one of the pictures that Sam had taken, of Cas kneeling beside his brother’s bed, hanging his head and gripping Gabe’s hand, not a word was spoken.


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

“You all right there, Sasquatch?”

Sam let out a sigh, looking up and seeing Adam standing in front of him. Sam smiled, closing one eye at the near-blinding sun.

“I thought I told you to stop hanging around Gabe.”

Adam let out a quiet laugh, moving to take a seat on the ground beside Sam. He sat the same way Sam was, with his knees partially drawn up and his elbows resting on his knees, forearms dangling. They were quiet for a minute, until Adam spoke up.

“What’s on your mind?”

Sam sighed again, looking out over the camp from the slightly elevated spot Sam had found. He shook his head.

“I just …”

Sam exhaled harshly, clenching his hands into fists.

“I can’t stop thinking about my dad.”

Adam nodded.

“In South Dakota?”

Sam swallowed, glancing down. He and Adam spent a lot of time together talking. They’d discussed their families during one of their first talks. Sam took in a breath, letting it out slowly.

“No, that … That’s not really my dad.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t one who jumped in to give his opinion, something Sam appreciated. Adam was a good listener, which is why, Sam supposed, he spoke the sentence he did.

“My father … killed himself when I was thirteen.”

Adam’s mouth fell open.

“Sam.”

Sam sighed, lifting a hand to rub at his chin. Adam didn’t say anything else. He just stared at Sam until Sam could speak again.

“My dad was a vet. Went to Vietnam. Came home, met and married my mom. Had me. And then my mom, she—“

Sam stopped looking down at his feet, swallowing hard.

“She died when I was seven.”

Adam shook his head, reaching over and laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“Hang on, okay? Why don’t you … start from the beginning?”

Sam sighed.

“Kansas. I was born in Lawrence, Kansas. Even had a dog named Toto once.”

Adam smiled, and Sam went on.

“My dad was always different. I knew that while I was growing up. He didn’t come to anything at school, didn’t coach little league. He drank a lot. A lot. I remember him leaving and moving out a lot, but Mom always took him back.”

Sam took in a breath.

“She got sick when I was five. Breast cancer, just like her mother. They thought they cured it, but the next year, she had a brain tumor. Three months after she was diagnosed, she died. And Dad … went a little crazy.”

Sam looked out over the sand, losing himself in memories for a moment.

“He yanked me out of school, threw some shit into a few bags and loaded me in the car. We drove literally across the country for the next year. I didn’t go to school. I liked to read, so wherever we ended up, I tried to snatch some books. Dad was convinced we were hunting something. The thing that took my mom, he said.”

Sam swallowed again.

“I tried to tell him that nothing had taken her. She’d been sick, and there hadn’t been anything the doctors could have done. But Dad was adamant about it. He’d either sit up all night and stare at his wedding ring or the picture of them that he’d brought from the house, or he’d drink until he passed out.”

Sam pushed a hand through his hair.

“Someone had to take care of him, but I was … I was seven years old. I didn’t even realize my birthday had passed until months later. Someone asked me how old I was and I didn’t even know I’d already turned eight.”

He looked down at his hands, at his own wedding ring.

“I knew something was wrong. People didn’t do that, you know? Kids were supposed to be in school, and dads were supposed to go to work. I tried to tell him that, but he’d just … He never got too violent, you know? But he did smack me around a bit. If I did something he thought was wrong, he’d let me know and he’d punish me. But he never beat me up or punched me or anything like that. He wasn’t abusive.”

Sam swallowed, lifting his head to look out over the base again.

“I found his journal when he was passed out once. Flipped through the back until I found his sister’s number. My aunt Ellen lived in Nebraska, I thought. But she’d gotten married and moved to South Dakota. The guy at her old number gave me the one she left for any forwarding messages or whatever, and she flipped her shit when I called. She’d been searching for me and Dad ever since we took off. I told her where we were, and she and her husband came.”

Sam smiled softly.

“Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bobby are who I think of as my parents. I call them Mom and Dad, just like my cousin Jo does.”

Adam smiled back, and Sam let out a breath.

“Dad agreed to let me go with them, because Uncle Bobby convinced him that I needed to be in school. But Dad wouldn’t go with us. He said he’d come check on me soon. It was three years later before I saw him again.”

Adam closed his eyes.

“Three years?”  
“Yeah. And he was … He looked horrible. He had this long beard, smelled of alcohol and worse, since it had to have been weeks since he bathed. Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bobby took him in, cleaned him up. Hid his keys.”

Sam smiled a bit, before he slid from his face.

“Uncle Bobby convinced him to look into this … assisted living community or something. Said it was for his drinking, but a couple years ago, I found out it was really a kind of mental health facility. They got him on some medication, helped him stop drinking. Aunt Ellen and I went to see him once a month, and he lived in that place for three whole years.”

Sam shook his head.

“But he … I don’t know. I don’t know if he stopped taking the medicine, or if they didn’t have him on the right stuff, or if it was just fate or whatever. Aunt Ellen and I went for our visit, and Dad and I spent the afternoon together. We played cards, talked about Mom, and he told me stuff about his time as a soldier. Told him I was thinking of trying out for the baseball team at school, and he told me I’d be great. I said that I loved him and I’d see him next month, and we went home.”

Sam swallowed again, his voice going quiet and just a little bit shaky.

“So when we got the call that he’d hung himself in his room, it was a complete shock.”

Adam held a hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“God, man.”  
“I know. I had just seen him. He told me he loved me, that he was proud of me, that my mother would be proud of me.”

Sam shook his head.

“But he … he hadn’t acted as calm as he had before. He was nervous, pretty jittery. Made me promise never to go back to Kansas. The nurse said he hadn’t been doing as well lately, but they were working with him. Everything would be okay.”

Sam let out a laugh.

“But it wasn’t.”

He sniffled, lifting his head to look up at the sun again, then back to the sand.

“When Jess—my wife—was in medical school, I used to help her study. She had this psych rotation thing, and we had a long talk about my dad. She decided that he had PTSD. I’d figured that one out for myself. He couldn’t handle fireworks or thunderstorms. Seeing soldiers in uniform would send him into an almost catatonic state, and we’d drive until he was all but asleep at the wheel.”

Sam squinted his eyes, then spoke again.

“Jess diagnosed him with anxiety, alcoholism, paranoia. And then when Mom died, she said he just … snapped. Him taking me and traipsing all over the country, then leaving me and going off on his own … She thought maybe he had a touch of bipolar disorder, possibly schizophrenia.”

Sam shook his head, letting out a sigh.

“But she was just going off my memories, and I was just a kid. Plus, Jess delivers babies now. She left the shrink stuff behind years ago.”

Sam looked down at his hands, and Adam bit his lip, then spoke, softly and as gently as he could.

“Why does being out here make you think of him?”

Sam looked over at Adam, studying his face. He was so young, but mature beyond his years. His voice was so deep, betraying his age. Sam smiled.

“Soldiers.”

Sam lifted a shoulder, letting it drop back down.

“Above all, Dad was a Marine. The reason my hair looks like this, from my first haircut to age nine, I had nothing but a high-and-tight.”  
“No shit?”

Sam laughed, and Adam joined in.

“I swear. Soon as I went to stay with Aunt Ellen, I started letting it grow.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders, then sighed. 

“Seeing you guys and how you all work together … I don’t know. I guess I … I just keep thinking that if Dad had been in a unit like this one, then maybe—maybe things could have turned out differently.”

After a moment, Adam leaned forward, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“You can’t think like that.”  
“It’s easy for you to say, but …”

Adam let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. But I’m kind of an unofficial expert on playing the ‘What If’ game.”

Sam glanced over, and Adam gave him a sad smile.

“What if my dad had hung around? Hell, what if I’d met the man? What if Mom had remarried? She might not have had to work nights. She might not have had to work at all. So then maybe she wouldn’t have been driving home so late. Well, early. And then she might not have been hit by that drunk that had been out all night.”

Adam sighed, leaning back.

“But then, I might not have been here. Actually, I know for a fact that I would definitely not be here. And I wouldn’t have met these guys, and I can’t help but think that my life wouldn’t be as … awesome as it is now.”

He leaned over again, bumping hid shoulder against Sam’s.

“Plus, I wouldn’t have met you. So, you know.”

Sam smiled, nodding.

“You’re one lucky son of a gun.”

Adam laughed, shaking his head when he looked at Sam with a smile. Sam took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

Adam nodded.

“I’m sorry about your dad. Both your parents, actually.”

Sam nodded back, and Adam let his breath out slowly.

“We can’t dwell on them, you know. Our parents. The past is in the past, and as hard as it is, we’ve got to move … well, past it. Sorry, I couldn’t think of a better word.”

Sam let out a quiet laugh.

“It’s okay.”  
“But it is true, you know.”

Sam slowly nodded.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just hard to do.”

Adam smiled, nodding his head.

“Yeah, if I ever accomplish it, I’ll let you know.”

Sam shook his head, a smile on his face. Adam stood to his feet, letting out a groan as he stretched his arms. He held out a hand to Sam, helped him to his feet.

“Let’s see if we can find some food, huh?”

Sam smiled, nodding his head, letting out a quiet laugh when Adam slung his arm around Sam’s waist, because he couldn’t reach his shoulders. Sam shrugged his arm off, then looped his own arm over Adam’s shoulders.

*-*-*-*

Sam stood at the opening of the communications tent, with Anna on one side and Garth on the other, watching as the teams loaded up their gear again. Gabe walked over and bumped fists with Sam, both of them smiling as Gabe walked over to the Humvee. Adam gave Sam a salute, which made Sam smile before he returned it.

Garth went back into the tent, but Sam stood beside Anna as they watched the Humvees drive away. Anna slowly let out a breath, laying a hand against her stomach as soon as the vehicles were out of sight. She shook her head, pushing a smile on her face.

“Okay. Where we going tonight?”

Sam smiled.

“I was actually thinking about going back to my tent and writing some.”

Anna smiled at him, nodding her head.

“That’s fine with me. I can help Garth out with a few things. Paperwork and something else he was trying to tell me about, but I kind of tuned him out.”

Sam let out a laugh, holding open the door for Anna, and waiting until she was inside the tent before he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked back to his tent. He booted up his laptop and stretched out his arms, leaning back and stretching his spine, then sitting at the computer and pulling up a fresh Word document.


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

“SAM!”

He lifted his head, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to something besides a computer screen. He heard his name again, and stumbled up from the chair at his desk, walking out of the tent as his name was screamed again.

“Anna?”

He grabbed hold of her arms as she ran up, stumbling as she got close to him. Her face was pale, more so than her usual porcelain skin tone, and she was trembling.

“Anna, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head, looking up at him, dark eyes wide and scared.

“We need—we need your help.”  
“With what?”  
“In the med—in the medic tent.”

Sam shook his head.

“Anna, what’s—“  
“Come on.”

She held his hand as she walked back to the medic tent, stopping inside the doorway. Abby and Meg were rushing around, grabbing different instruments and supplies, calling out to each other. Meg finally lifted her head long enough to see Sam and Anna, and she whistled. Abby stopped what she was doing, turning back and seeing them. She walked over, stopping in front of them.

“Shut it off.”  
“What?”  
“Your brain. You can’t use it right now, all right?”  
“What the hell’s going on?”

Abby looked to Anna, who was still trembling, standing close to Sam, still holding his hand. Abby sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. Something happened in the field, and for them to call us ahead of time, it’s something bad. At least two guys are injured, and since there’s no one out there with professional medical training, we don’t know how badly.”  
“Why don’t they have a medic with them?”

Abby sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. They never have a medic with them. It’s not protocol or something. Benny and Cas have slight medical training, but …”

She trailed off, looking to Meg, then back to Anna.

“Anna.”

She spoke sharply, harshly, and Anna blinked before she looked to her. Abby’s face was hard, and her tone sharp as she spoke.

“Did you make the call?”

Anna nodded.

“Garth was radioing them in when I went to get Sam.”

Abby nodded.

“Go back to the comm tent and sit with Kevin.”  
“I—I need to—“  
“Anna, go. Now.”

Anna nodded, finally letting Sam’s hand go as she walked away. Sam looked to Abby, who closed her eyes as she shook her head.

“She’s freaking out because we don’t know who it is. I know I seemed mean just then, but gentle doesn’t get through to her in times like this.”

Sam nodded.

“Abby, what am I doing here?”

Abby blew out a breath.

“We need the help.”  
“I don’t have any medical training.”  
“I know you don’t. You’re not going to be doing surgery. We need the lift help. You might need to help hold them down. Your height can be of a serious advantage, if need be. And if nothing else, you can watch the guys who swear they’re ‘fine’ and make sure they actually are.”

Sam slowly nodded, letting out a breath. Meg walked over with a pair of gloves, a pair of goggles, and a paper gown.

“Put this on.”

Sam nodded, following Meg’s instructions, turning around after he slid the gown on so she and Abby could tie it for him. He bent down to let them slide the goggles on his face, then he slid the gloves on his hands. 

“Try not to touch anything, okay?”

Sam nodded, and Abby and Meg dressed in their own gowns. Sam swallowed, trying to fight back the terror that was trying to crawl up his spine. He heard footsteps outside the tent, and watched as Garth walked in, followed by a shorter, bearded man with a tall, efficient-looking woman beside him, dark hair pulled back in a bun. A woman walked up beside her, dark eyes taking in the room before her, before a tall, muscular man rounded out their group. Garth motioned back with his head.

“Cavalry’s here. ETA is seven minutes.”

Abby nodded, walking up and diving into conversation with the newcomers. Meg walked up to Sam as she pulled gloves on her hands.

“The bearded guy, Crowley, is a doctor over in the next base, and Naomi’s a surgeon at the local hospital. Zeke and Hester are nurses. They’ve come in as backup.”  
“Meg, this is really bad, isn’t it?”

Meg looked down, taking in a deep breath before she swallowed hard. She lifted her dark eyes to Sam’s, worry and fear evident.

“Yes, Sam. This is really bad.”

They both glanced over as they heard a commotion, and Abby nodded. Hester and Zeke handed gowns and gloves to Crowley and Naomi, and they all hurried outside. Sam stopped in his tracks at the men piling out of the one Humvee. Cain stepped out with a limp body in his arms, Gabriel behind him, helping to support the man’s head. Crowley, Abby and Meg rushed over to them, and Benny climbed out from the driver’s seat, blood pouring down his face. Naomi and Hester went to him, and he shook his head.

“They need help more than me.”  
“Can you tell us what happened?”

Sam watched as Crowley pointed to the tent, and Cain and Gabriel walked behind Meg, who was running ahead of them. Abby followed them, stopping at Zeke and pointing him towards the Humvee, motioning for Hester to follow her. Sam walked over to Benny, watching as he spit to the side, blood coating his teeth as he spoke.

“IED hit the … I don’t even know which one. I can’t remember if my group hit the bomb or if we stopped to help, but before we could … heavy fire. Just coming from everywhere. I don’t know how the hell we got out of there.”  
“Do you know how badly you’re hurt?”

Benny shook his head.

“Cut on my head. Chest hurts, think some of my ribs are busted. But they need more help than me. Give me a rag and I’ll hold pressure on my head.”

Naomi nodded, lifting her head when she heard Crowley call for her. Sam stepped closer, and Benny shook his head.

“We’ve never been hit this hard, writer boy.”  
“Come on. I’ll find that rag for you.”  
“No, you … You got to help them. I’m fine.”  
“Help who, Benny?”  
“Sam?”

Sam looked over to see Zeke standing by the back of the Humvee.

“We need you back here.”

Sam nodded, squeezing Benny’s shoulder before he walked around to the rest of them. His eyes widened when he took in the blood, thankful for the darkness, that he couldn’t see how badly this man was hurt. Zeke nodded to Sam.

“We need your help bringing him in. Hold him steady. Don’t move him or jostle him too much, all right?”

Sam nodded, hearing Naomi’s soft voice.

“You’ve got to let him go so that we can help him, Castiel. Okay? We’ve got to get him inside and work on him.”

Castiel? Sam swallowed hard as he looked closer, seeing for the first time, a bloody and battered Cas with the soldier’s head in his lap. And Sam closed his eyes as he realized that if Cas was sitting there, holding on the way that he was, it could only mean one thing.

“It’s Dean.”

Zeke and Naomi flicked their eyes up, nodding once. Cas slowly lifted his head, and Sam nodded.

“We’ve got him, Cas. Come on.”

Sam leaned into the vehicle, sliding his arms where Cas’ were, holding Dean the way Cas had been. Cas just sat there as Zeke slid his arms under Dean’s torso, as Crowley and Naomi spoke to each other and Zeke, hurrying into the tent. 

Sam laid Dean on a stretcher as gently as he could, taking a bag of saline from someone and holding it up. He heard shouts from all around, and the chaos of the room nearly knocked him off his feet. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Sam.”

A hard tone made him open his eyes, and he looked into the hazel eyes of the man who was almost as tall as he was. Zeke had his shoulders squared, hands working competently as his eyes were on Sam.

“Shut it down.”  
“I can’t—I don’t know how.”  
“Just stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

Sam shook his head, and Zeke looked down, then back to him.

“We can’t work on him with you shaking like that. Now calm the fuck down and shut your mind off.”

Sam hadn’t even realized that he was shaking. He looked up to see the liquid in the bag sloshing around. Jess’ voice came to his mind, talking about IV’s and saline bags and how they had to be hung beside the patient’s bed. He took in a breath and let it out slowly, staring at the bag while Jess’ voice kept sounding in his ears. Nothing that he could explain, nothing he could really even understand. Just the familiar sound of the woman he loved. 

Sam had to look away when Naomi got a scalpel and made an incision. Jess was the medical professional in the family. Sam got queasy at the sight of blood. He heard something about “compartment syndrome” and racked his brain, trying to remember if he’d helped Jess study that, if he could remember what it meant. He came up empty, but Jess’ giggle was in his ear.

He tried to look across the room, at Abby and Meg and Hester, but they were moving so fast it made him dizzy. When they moved their patient into another room, a feat Sam didn’t even realize was possible, Sam realized that he didn’t know who they were working on. He’d never found out who the other man was, or if anyone else was injured. 

“Mr. Wesson, is it?”

Sam blinked, looking over to Naomi, who was bent over Dean’s body, doing something with her hands that Sam honestly didn’t want to know the details of. She looked up at him and he nodded, and she smiled softly.

“Why don’t you go and check on the others? We’ve got this here.”  
“I—I’m not a …”  
“Oh, I know that, dear. Just check on them for me.”

Crowley lifted his head, pointing a bloody finger at Sam.

“Get Mr. Tran to place a call to a friend of mine, Dr. Balthazar. He can come and stitch up who needs it.”

Zeke stepped over, gently taking the saline bag from Sam’s hand and hanging it above Dean’s bed. He nodded, laying a hand on Sam’s shoulder, and Sam nodded, listening to Zeke’s quiet instructions as to how to remove his gloves and the gown, which was spackled with blood. 

“Crowley, we need help now!”

Crowley glanced up and Naomi nodded at him. He moved away from Dean’s side, and Zeke stepped in, taking his place. Crowley hurried to the other room, stripping gloves off on the way. Sam glanced over at the body on the stretcher, quickly glancing away when all he could see was blood. So much blood.

Dean’s blood. 

Sam let out a shaky breath, turning and walking out of the room. He ran out of the tent, gasping when he was outside, stopping and bending over, breathing in deeply. He did everything he could to calm himself down, but he ended up running behind the tent, bending over again and throwing up everything he’d eaten that day. 

After a few minutes, he leaned up, breathing in again and exhaling harshly. He heard a quiet cough behind him and he turned, seeing Cain standing there, holding out a glass of water. Sam blinked, reaching a shaking hand out and taking the cup, sloshing it just a bit as he sipped it, washing his mouth out the best he could and spitting the water onto the ground. 

“We were bombarded.”

Sam stared into the cup as Cain spoke.

“The IED rattled our Humvee, enough to put it out of commission, but not us. We were just knocked around a little, and the other team stopped to make sure we were all right, to gather our supplies and pile us all in their ride.”

Cain took in a breath, letting it out slowly. 

“When we were all out of the vehicles, there was … I don’t remember who saw it, but there was another bomb. We tried to get out of the way, but … I don’t know if Dean didn’t hear, or if he was trying to make sure the rest of us were all right, or what.”

Cain shook his head as he looked down.

“The kid jumped in, grabbing Dean and pushing him out of the way, but the bomb went off too soon. They were both blasted back, and before the dust even settled, we were taking heavy fire. Maybe it started as the bomb blew; I couldn’t even tell you.”

Cain blew out a breath. 

“It just … It happened so fast.”

Cain lifted a hand, rubbing it over his mouth and shaking his head. 

“I think we had incorrect information, and this whole thing just went to hell before we could even turn around.”

Cain lifted his head, looking over at Sam, who was looking back at him. They just stared for a moment, and Cain sighed, motioning with his head. Sam followed him, coming to a stop when he got to the group. 

Gabe lifted his head, a cut just above his right eye that was quickly swelling. Victor was holding a rag to a cut on his cheek, a bruise spreading across his forehead, his left arm hanging limply by his side. Benny was laying on his back on a bench, eyes closed as he breathed through clenched teeth. Cas, Ash, and Adam were missing, and Sam snapped his fingers as he went into the comm tent. 

“Kev, can you call a Dr. Balthazar?”

Kevin nodded as he turned from his computer to the phone. Sam turned to leave, and Garth swirled around in his chair.

“Sam?”

Sam stopped and turned around, and Garth bit his lip.

“Is … Is everything …?”

Sam let out a sigh.

“No. No, it’s not. But we’re working on it.”

*-*-*-*

When the medic chopper arrived, Sam helped load Dean inside. When the chopper was gone, he turned to Naomi, who was standing beside him, looking out at the darkness of the night.

“Is he going to …”

Naomi lifted her head, locking eyes with Sam.

“He’s stable, which is how we were able to transport him. Things are looking good right now, but he’s far from out of the woods.”  
“Is he … Like, what does … I can’t think right now.”

Sam looked down at the soft touch, and Naomi gently patted his arm.

“He took a good hit from the bomb. I don’t have the details on that, so I can’t tell you anything but what I’ve seen. He’s got a broken collarbone and a bad break on his right leg. Ribs are bruised, a couple most likely cracked. He didn’t come back to consciousness, which is a blessing for him, but worrisome for me. Oh, but he did squeeze Anna’s hand when she came in.”

Naomi smiled at that, then nodded her head.

“He had two bullet wounds, one to the chest and one to the belly, but I recovered both of the bullets. He needs surgery, which is why we got him out of here.”  
“And he’ll be okay?”

Naomi smiled again.

“I certainly hope so. There’s not a better man on this base than Dean Winchester.”

*-*-*-*

Sam leaned up against the Humvee, hands over his eyes as he just breathed. He could feel the adrenaline rush slipping away, and he was getting a massive headache. He’d helped Dr. Balthazar, a tall, lanky man with a lazy British accent as much as he could, taping up bandages, helping fit Victor’s arm into a sling, helping to wrap up Benny’s broken ribs. Sam sighed, rolling his shoulders, then turned and walked back into the medic tent.

He stopped at the doorway, at the stretcher that was now empty, holding only bloody sheets and discarded instruments. Sam swallowed, trying not to think of how that was Dean’s blood, Dean who had bleeding on the table while Sam stood over him, Dean who was now in a helicopter being transported to a hospital somewhere with his life hanging in the balance. 

The door to the other room opened, and Hester and Zeke walked out. They both looked tired, exhausted, even. They didn’t speak to Sam as they walked past him. Naomi and Crowley walked out next, looking as tired as the others, and Crowley followed the direction Hester and Zeke had gone. Naomi walked to Sam and squeezed his shoulder, then followed the others. Sam stepped closer to the door, gently pushing it open, stopping when he heard the noise behind the door.

Meg lifted her head, tears in her eyes and sliding down her cheeks. Sam knelt in front of her, reaching a hand out to gently touch her arm. Meg shook her head, putting her head back on her arms, which were pillowed on her knees, and let out a quiet sob. Sam glanced over and stood up, seeing Abby sitting on a chair with her hands clasped together over her stomach, looking off into the distance. 

“Abby?”

She blinked, then slowly brought her head around to look at him. She blinked again, then looked away again, swallowing and blinking a tear down her cheek. Sam looked back at Meg, then bit his lip, walking closer to the bed. Sam felt his blood turn to ice in his veins, as his feet became rooted to the floor and his heart fell to the ground beside them.

“There was nothing we could have done.”

Abby’s voice was quiet and monotone, and she stared at the wall as she spoke.

“He must have been directly in front of the blast. It’s almost hard to tell shrapnel from organs. His heart must have stopped three times, but we got it going again. That last time, though … He’d lost so much blood and the IVs we got in him weren’t doing what they should have. Massive internal bleeding and organ failure, Crowley said. So when his heart stopped again and we tried to restart it …”

Abby shook her head, sniffling as she reached up to wipe away the tears from her cheeks.

“He died at 3:56 this morning.”

Sam reached over, his hand shaking before he pushed it through dusty blonde hair.

“Oh, Adam.”

Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head as a tear dripped from his eye. Abby took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Someone needs to tell the rest of the guys.”

Meg lifted her head, sighing and sniffling, wiping her face.

“I’ll do it.”  
“No, it’s … it’s my turn. I’ll do it.”

Meg stood up anyway, walking to the sink to wash her hands and face. Abby waited behind her, washing her own hands when Meg was done. 

“Sam?”

Sam glanced over at Meg, who motioned towards the door.

“You coming?”

Sam glanced back at the body on the stretcher and shook his head. He walked to Abby’s chair, pulling it with him as he walked back and sat down beside the bed. Abby and Meg quietly walked out, and Sam sighed, shaking his head again. He pushed a little ways backwards and put his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his hands. 

*-*-*-*

Sam just couldn't leave. Every time he tried to stand up, the tears would come again. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Adam alone. So, he sat beside him. After a quiet while, maybe a few minutes, maybe hours later, Sam heard footsteps behind him, but he never lifted his head. After a few quiet minutes, Victor’s voice rang out.

“It took everything we had to get them up and loaded into the one working car. We’re all …”

Victor sighed.

“We’ve been beat to hell before, but never like this.”

Victor shook his head, stepping up to the bed.

“Dean would be dead if it wasn’t for him. He saved his life.”

Victor shook his head, reaching over and laying a hand on Adam’s still chest.

“You’re a hero, kid.”  
“No one will know.”

Victor glanced at Sam, who shook his head, unable to take his eyes off of Adam’s face. Victor didn’t say anything, but after a second, Sam spoke again, lifting his eyes to Victor.

“He doesn’t have anyone. No one at all. They’ll put him in the ground and no one will know the things he did. The way he laid down his life for Dean. No one will know.”

Sam shook his head, putting his head back in his hands.

“We will.”

Sam glanced behind him to see Abby and Meg walking back in, with the rest of the Wayward Sons behind them. Abby blinked and nodded.

“We’ll know what he did, and as long as we’re alive, he will be, too.”  
“But none of us have the power that you do, Sam.”

Sam blinked as Cain’s clear voice spoke from the back of the room.

“Write your story on the Wayward Sons. Tell of the things we’ve done, and of the brother we lost. You have the power to have Adam live forever, if you’ll only do it.”

Sam looked behind him, at the bravest, most courageous men he’d ever known, all beaten and bruised, broken at the moment, but never shattered. The rag-tag team of people no one would ever think could work well together, but who defied the odds and saved the world more times than anyone knew.

And that moment was when Sam knew.

He had his story.


	10. Epilogue

**TEN**

The three months that Sam spent across the world forever changed his life. His outlook on life, his thoughts on the military, everything was changed.

Even now, ten years later, he still finds himself thinking back on that time.

A lot has changed since then.

He can still remember the feeling he felt six months after he’d come home, when Zachariah had his article “fixed” by someone who worked a step above Sam. The horror that fed into a near-blind rage a month later when Zachariah told him they weren’t printing the article after all, since the buzz about the Wayward Sons had died down once the last mission occurred, when the leader of the group nearly died and one of the soldiers actually did. Sam was the only reporter to ever interview them, and his article would never even see the light of day. 

But, in a move that surprised even him, Sam calmly turned and walked out of Zachariah’s office, walked to his computer and proceeded to delete his article, the revision, and every photo he’d turned in from the company’s computer system. Charlie, of course, talked him through it, and stood in shock as Sam walked back into Zachariah’s office and quit. 

Not only did he quit, but he tore his boss to shreds, calling him—among other things—a mindless ape who couldn’t think for himself and a pathetic excuse for a human being. Zachariah’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he swore Sam would never work in journalism again.

But he was wrong. 

While Sam was suffering through nightmares—with Jess helping him through them just like she’d promised—Charlie was a busy little bee. A year and a half after he returned from his time abroad, after he’d taken a job at the local coffee shop and was toying around with the idea of writing a novel, Charlie handed him a magazine. He was shocked to see his photo on the cover, the one of Cas kneeling beside Gabriel’s bed, but he was even more shocked when he saw that the entire magazine was his photos of the Wayward Sons, along with his original article and one he’d written and shown only to Charlie and Jess, which caused both of them to dissolve into tears halfway through reading. 

While Sam was gone, Charlie had taken on some freelance work for an up-and-coming businessman. Richard Roman became indebted to Charlie, and when she asked if he’d like to begin publishing a magazine, he jumped at the chance. Their first issue, consisting of nothing but photos and a few articles about the Wayward Sons completely sold out across the globe, and won award after award, even getting special recognition from the President. 

Since that issue, _Integrity_ magazine has stayed atop the charts, selling out of local grocery and bookstores, with over a million subscribers. Sam and Charlie are co-CEOs, a far, far cry from their struggling college-student days.

But that’s not all that’s changed.

Sam turned back from looking out the bedroom window to watch Jess walk into the room, shaking her head and tossing up her hands.

“I give. You go and deal with this. I’m tagging you in.”

Sam let out a laugh as she pushed by him to walk into the bathroom, yanking open her makeup drawer. Sam sighed, straightening his tie and walking down the hall. He stopped at an open door, knocking gently. Jess’ bright green eyes looked up at him from a sweet little face.

“Daddy, she just doesn’t know.”

Sam smiled, stepping into the room and kneeling down.

“What doesn’t she know, buddy?”

The little boy in a white t-shirt and Spiderman underwear walked over to him, laying a little hand on Sam’s knee. 

“Boy clothes. Mommy doesn’t know about them because she’s a girl.”

Sam narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t have to be a boy to know about boy clothes. Mommy could wear boy clothes if she wanted to.”

The little one shook his head.

“But she doesn’t get it. You get it, because you’re a boy.”

Sam stood up, accepting the little hand that slid into his, and walked over to the bed. He sat down, picking up the small pair of slacks. He leaned over, and the little boy put his hands on Sam’s shoulders, using him for balance as he stepped into the pants. Sam buttoned the pants once they were up, then shook out the little white dress shirt. He smiled, holding it out, and the boy smiled back as he slid his arms through it. 

“So, I have a question for you.”

The boy nodded, raising his chin as Sam buttoned the shirt up.

“When your sister gets here, can I pick clothes out for her? Since she’ll be a girl, and I’m a boy?”

The boy nodded his head.

“You can pick them out, but you can’t dress her. Boys have to get dressed together, because they know how to get dressed.”  
“You mean like with the ties and things?”

He nodded seriously, and Sam bit back his smile.

“I see. Mommy couldn’t help you get dressed, because she doesn’t wear ties.”  
“Right.”

Sam nodded.

“I get it. But your logic is flawed, my man. Your mommy is great at tying ties.”  
“Do I _have_ to wear the tie?”  
“You look so good in it. All grown up.”  
“Are you wearing a tie?”  
“Yep. A bow tie. Your mom’s going to tie it for me in a little bit.”

The little boy let out a longsuffering sigh—something he’d learned from Jess, Sam swore. 

“All right. But only if you wear one, too.”

Sam stood up and held out his hand, and the little boy slid his hand into it. They walked down the hall, and Sam let out a whistle when they got to the bedroom.

“Gorgeous.”

Jess rolled her eyes as she finished fastening her earring, turning to face the boys in a long, golden-sequined gown that hugged the swell of her stomach.

“It looks okay? Not like I’m trying to smuggle a watermelon?”  
“What does ‘smuggle’ mean?”

Sam and Jess exchanged a smile and Sam lifted his son onto the bed. Jess raised an eyebrow.

“I see you got dressed.”

Sam nodded.

“It’s boy stuff.”  
“Is this like one of those ‘peeing outside’ conversations that I’ll never understand?”

Sam and the little boy nodded solemnly and Jess shook her head, laughing quietly.

“Thank god this one’s a girl. I can’t stand being so outnumbered.”

Sam smiled, walking over to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her belly and feeling the baby move as he kissed her. Sam leaned back just enough to rub his nose against hers, and she smiled.

“I love you.”  
“I love you, too.”  
“This is so gross.”

They laughed as they looked to the bed, where the boy was covering his eyes, shaking his head. Sam cleared his throat as he walked to the dresser, picking up his tie and walking to his wife.

“Play along.”

She raised an eyebrow at his muttered statement, but nodded. Sam put the tie in her hands and leaned his head back a bit. He glanced to the bed to see curious eyes watching them, and Jess quickly and efficiently tied his bow tie. Sam smiled, turning to the mirror, straightening the tie just a bit before turning back to the bed.

“See? She’s awesome.”

The boy smiled and nodded, lifting his chin as Jess walked over to the bed, bending over slightly as she tied his little bow tie, too.

“There.”

The little boy made grabby hands towards Sam, who lifted him up and held him as he walked to the mirror. 

“Little man … We look good.”

The boy nodded, and Sam put him down. He ran out of the room with Jess on his heels. She stopped at the door.

“Robert Adam Wesson, you get those clothes dirty and your butt is mine!”

Sam let out a laugh that quickly morphed into a cough when Jess turned to glare at him. Sam shrugged his shoulders and Jess rolled her eyes.

“He’s going to be a mess when he gets to be a teenager. He’s almost five and look what we have to deal with.”  
“Adam’s a good kid, Jess. Takes after his mama.”

Jess smiled, picking up Sam’s jacket and walking over to him, draping it over his shoulders and smoothing it out.

“I’m glad we’re going tonight.”

Sam nodded.

“Me, too. I’m excited to see everyone.”

He turned around and took her face in his hands, kissing her gently.

“What would I do without you?”  
“Crash and burn, baby. We’ve talked about this.”

Sam laughed quietly, nodding his head.

“Thank you for putting up with me.”  
“Nowhere else I’d rather be. Now, come on, or we’re going to be late.”

*-*-*-*

“Kick-ass decorating job, if I do say so myself.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sipped the champagne Charlie had handed him. Jess watched him longingly, then grudgingly sipped her ginger ale. Sam took another sip, then glanced to Charlie.

“You don’t think it’s stupid?”

Charlie gave a longsuffering sigh so reminiscent of what he’d witnessed from his son earlier that Sam rethought where Adam might have learned it. 

“I have told you, time and time again, it’s not stupid. It’s what people in your position do for things like this.”  
“Throw black tie galas?”  
“A book release—especially one like this, on this topic, written by you—calls for it.”

Sam shook his head, laughing under his breath.

“Well, damn, rookie. You clean up good.”

Sam turned around, mouth falling open when he saw Dean standing there, one hand holding a cane, the other wrapped around Anna. Sam laughed, stepping over and wrapping the man in a hug.

“God, I missed you.”  
“Aw, rookie. I missed you, too. It’s been, what, four years now since I’ve seen you?”  
“Five, actually. I know because—“  
“Daddy, you said there would be chicken nuggets.”

Sam smiled, glancing down at the little hands tugging on his jacket. He knelt down, resting one hand against the boy’s stomach as Adam put his arm around Sam’s neck.

“Adam, this is my friend Mr. Dean. Can you say hello?”

Adam nodded, stepping away from Sam and holding out his hand.

“Hello. My name is Adam Wesson.”

Dean and Anna exchanged a smile.

“I’m Dean, and this is my wife, Anna.”

They both shook the little boy’s hand, and he turned back to Sam.

“Chicken nuggets.”

Sam shook his head.

“That’s a question for Aunt Charlie.”

Sam pointed towards the redhead, and Adam took off for her. Sam stood back up, wincing a moment before he turned to Dean and Anna. She leaned over and whispered something to Dean, and he nodded. She stepped away, walking over to Jess, who hugged her before they started talking. Sam motioned towards a table, and Dean nodded, making his way over. Dean groaned as they sat down, and he shook his head as he set his cane behind his chair.

“Had a knee replacement six months ago. Been a bitch to PT.”  
“I was wondering if you’d gotten the surgery.”  
“Well, I put it off as long as I could, but I really didn’t have much of a choice. That last mission fucked me up royally.”

Sam nodded, and Dean smiled.

“So you had a kid.”

Sam nodded, a smile crossing his face.

“And you named him Adam.”

The smile went soft and a little sad.

“Yeah, I … I just couldn’t shake him. He’s always on my mind, you know?”

Dean nodded.

“I do understand. It’s been the same for me. You know, Anna and I were going to name our little boy Adam, but we never got the chance.”

Sam smiled.

“How are the girls doing?”

Dean’s face lit up with a smile.

“They’re great. Grace is nine, and already giving me anxiety about boys.”

Sam laughed, and Dean went on.

“Jenna is six, and Allie, our little surprise, just turned two.”  
“Three girls.”  
“And Ben, of course. He’s fourteen, and his little sister’s hero. He adores them just as much. Lisa remarried when he was seven, but they never had any kids.”

Sam smiled. Anna requested a change in position shortly after Dean woke up from the medically-induced coma the doctors in Germany had decided was best for him. The reasoning behind her job switch was speculation for a while, until a few months later, when she started to show. Their daughter Grace was born in Germany, just down the hall from her father’s hospital room. 

Dean received an honorable discharge from the Army, as did Castiel. Shortly after Grace was born, Cas took a sabbatical, spending a couple years traveling the world, trying to find himself and the peace that had eluded him for most of his life. He found it, surprisingly, in Illinois with Meg, running a children’s home. 

“Oh, rookie.”

Sam glanced to Dean, who gave him a smile.

“Cas sends his regards. Said he would have loved to come, but he and Meg are knee-deep in trying to adopt these twins.”  
“Twins?”

Dean smiled and nodded.

“Two-year-old little boy and a little girl. They’ve had a shitty life so far, and Cas and Meg have just fallen in love. No doubt in my mind that they’ll get them, but it’s just taking time.”

Dean tapped Sam’s arm, pointing towards the door. Sam smiled, standing up and making his way towards the man standing there in Army fatigues.

“Corporal.”

A laugh rang out a second before Sam had his arms full of his old friend.

“Sasquatch!”  
“Good to see you, Gabe.”  
“It’s good to see you, too. And, it’s Master Sergeant, not Corporal anymore, thank you very much.”

Sam laughed, hugging Gabe one more time, then pointing him towards Dean as the door opened again, and a tall black man in an official-looking suit walked in.

“Victor.”

Victor walked over, wrapping Sam in a hug before he stepped back. Sam held up his hands.

“My bad, Agent Henrikson.”

Victor rolled his eyes, a smile on his face. 

“No one’s supposed to know about that, Writer Boy.”

Sam smiled.

“No one knows except me. Well, and my wife.”

Victor rolled his eyes again, and a loud whistle made both of them turn around. Ash walked in two steps ahead of Benny, who whistled under his breath.

“Check out the digs. Very nice.”

Sam hugged them both, and they all walked over to the table where Dean and Gabe were talking. They all took a seat after taking their time welcoming each other back, hugging and laughing. Sam couldn’t help but sit back and take in the sight in front of him, the soldiers that used to be. 

The Wayward Sons were disbanded after the mission that went horribly wrong. Gabe was the only one who stayed in the service, but in a more administrative capacity. Cain went home to his wife in France, and no one really hears from him anymore. Benny moved back to Louisiana, married his high school sweetheart, and opened a restaurant. Victor took a job with the FBI and moved to D.C. Ash tended bar for a while, until he got the job offer of a lifetime, as a flight instructor. 

Garth and Kevin still did communications, albeit in a different context. Garth hosts a radio show that is nationally syndicated, and Kevin still translates ancient documents, but at the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington, D.C. Anna, of course, married Dean and settled down in Kansas. Abby is a trauma surgeon somewhere on the West Coast, and Meg followed Abby for a while, until Castiel came and got her. 

“So Writer Boy.”

Sam smiled, turning to Benny, who gave him a wide smile.

“When’s this book coming out?”  
“Next week. On the … the day Adam would have turned thirty.”

The table went quiet, and the men all held soft, fond smiles on their faces. Jess walked over, handing Sam a glass half-full of whiskey, laying her hand on his shoulder. Ash cleared his throat.

“What’s it called again?”

Sam smiled.

_“A New Perspective: The Story of the Wayward Sons.”_

They all nodded, those same smiles still on their faces. Dean clapped his hands.

“Gonna be a best-seller, I guaran-damn-tee it.”

Laughter filled the air, so different from the last time they were all together. Even though he’d seen most of the guys a few times since they were all over there, this was the first time they’d all been together, save for Castiel and Cain. Sam looked around, taking it all in, smiling at the life he had. 

“Hey, Writer Boy.”

Sam smiled as he looked over to Benny.

“What you smilin’ at?”

Sam let out a laugh.

“Us. This. Did you ever think something like this would happen?”

Benny shook his head, sharing glances with each of the men around the table, who’d gone quiet as they listened to Benny and Sam. Dean cleared his throat, reaching for his bottle of beer.

“Well, I say let’s keep this sappy for a minute and have a toast.”

Good-natured grumbles sounded around the table, but they all lifted their glasses. Dean started them off.

“To the Wayward Sons.”

Victor smiled, holding up his glass of bourbon.

“To the boys we were, and the men we became.”

Benny lifted his Jack and Coke.

“To the good times, and the bad times, for making us appreciate life.”

Gabriel looked into his glass of beer, then lifted it.

“To the brothers we lost.”

Ash smiled, lifting his can of PBR.

“And the strangers who became our brothers.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but looked over to Dean, who smiled, still holding his bottle in the air.

“I think it’s safe to say we kicked it in the ass.”

Laughter rang out around the table, before they all stood up, clinking their glasses and bottles together, speaking in one voice.

“To the Wayward Sons!”


End file.
